London is Burning
by violinia
Summary: Arthur Kirkland, owner of a humble bookstore in London, cannot be honest with himself about his sexuality. In an attempt to prove himself, he goes to a bar called Atomica. There, he meets Mirage Voilà, a beautiful performer and falls drunkenly in love. However, a surprise is in store for the Englishman, which causes new experiences to occur.
1. In the Distance, there Lies a Mirage

Being honest with himself was a quality Arthur never mastered.

_If I can pass this personal test_, Arthur thought to himself as he stepped in to the club. _Then everything will be okay. _The music inside the club was loud and deafening; it took several moments for Arthur's ears to adjust. He watched all of the people grinding up against each other, and he fought the urge to run up and join them.

But Arthur was one of those people who believed that if he could pass as straight, all would be well. He was raised by a stern Catholic grandmother; it was ingrained in him that being gay was the greatest sin one could partake in. Devils would chase him the moment he died and drag him into the deepest circles of hell, tormenting him for all eternity. Though Arthur had no issues with others being gay, it was simply not an option for the English lad.

Arthur eventually found himself at the bar; he leaned over the counter and looked over the taller men to see if he could flag down the bartender. A rather tall, tan, slender man came over, winked and leaned on the opposite side of the counter.

"_Hola_," he greeted. "Can I get you started on a drink?"

Arthur took a small step backwards; the man was a little bit too close. "Could I get a pint?" Arthur requested.

The bartender raised an eyebrow in question. "A pint? _Ay dios mios_, you know where you are right? You can be yourself here." he asked, stifling a laugh.

Arthur glanced down at the man's fitted shirt and read his name tag: Antonio was his name. "Well, what if I just like beer?" he replied, tapping the counter with his fingers.

"I mean if that's what you want, I've got it. I just would've taken you for a martini kind of guy." Antonio stated, shrugging as he walked over to the tap.

The Spaniard was right; Arthur _did _like martinis. They were never too sweet, and they got rid of his depression quicker than beer or wine ever could. But Arthur tolerated beer, especially when he was trying to prove a point.

Antonio slid over the glass of beer to Arthur and charged him a couple of pounds for the beverage. Satisfied with himself thus far, Arthur turned around and leaned his back against the bar, watching the men dancing like crazy around the stage. There were male strippers dancing in cages high above the dance floor, and Arthur tried his best to keep his eyes on his beer. He was determined to pass this test he set against himself, dammit!

"So, this your first time?" Antonio asked.

Arthur took a deep breath before answering; he didn't come here for chit chat… "Yeah, I've heard good things about this place and thought I'd check it out." he answered, turning his head ever so slightly to his right shoulder.

He heard Antonio chuckled a bit. "Well, we've got everything to please your fantasy!" he encouraged. "Tonight, we have a fantastic performer taking the stage in a few moments. I think you're gonna love her!"

_Her?_ Arthur asked himself You mean there are actually women who come to this place? _Don't be ridiculous, Arthur. Of course women come here; they might not come home with a date, but they at least get to see some attractive men. _"Sounds good, mate." Arthur said, turning away from Antonio.

"What's your type?" he asked, leaning closer to the Brit.

"Oh...uh..._you know_." Arthur mumbled.

"You gotta speak louder, 'cause it's loud as fuck in here!"

"I said...uh…" Arthur couldn't really answer. Did he have a type? Should he even say it out loud? "You know."

Antonio laughed. "No, I _don't _know. That's why I asked." he laughed.

Before Arthur could answer, the music suddenly stopped. "Allllright everybody, you know what time it is!" the DJ announced. The DJ was an odd looking fellow; he initially looked as if he were too old for the scene, with his white hair and everything. But he carried _way _too much energy and was _obviously_ enthused to start the party again. "You've all been waiting for her, and I have been too, so give it up for _Mirage Voilà_!"

_Mirage Voilà?_ _That's a peculiar name. Is she a rising pop star? _Arthur thought to himself. The whole club went up into an uproar with hoots and hollers, proceeded by everyone running up closer to the stage. They all were practically knocking everyone over, and Arthur laughed; whoever this Mirage Voilà was, she was obviously a big hit for everyone here.

The lights in the entire club dimmed and music soon began to play. The music started with a woman with a soprano voice humming the main melody, which sounded vaguely familiar. The crowd was already cheering and noisy. At first, Arthur thought they should be more quiet to actually appreciate the performance. But he realized that this was a club, and everyone was drunk; perhaps he needed to be drunk as well.

"Hey, Antonio," Arthur called. "I think I'll have that martini after all."

Antonio winked. "Sounds good." he replied, chuckling.

The beat of the music finally kicked in, and the whole club was clapping along and jumping. The stage lit up with a spotlight and a tall woman stepped out onto the stage. She was dressed in a tight fit, white elegant dress and her blonde hair was all done up in a bun. She was _stunning_. Though her mouth was moving, Arthur was certain she wasn't _actually _singing. A lip syncer, this person was. But there was something stunning about the performance as it continued on; Mirage Voilà had incredible charisma.

Antonio slid the martini to Arthur without saying anything, to which Arthur gladly took the drink, chugged it, and began making his way closer to the stage. He wanted a closer look at this beautiful woman, and being the only "straight" man in the club, perhaps he'd be able to please her.

By the time Arthur reached the side of the stage, the song had reached its operatic chorus in French, making Arthur realize that he recognized this particular song had from the Eurovision Song Contest several years ago. Which year, who knew, but Mirage Voilà was performing the _fuck _out of the song. People were handing her tips left and right, to which she graciously took from their hands and stuffing the bank notes into her bra. Arthur was completely enchanted with Mirage Voilà; it was as if she was a witch and had cast a spell on his heart.

He soon began looking through his wallet to find the largest bank note he could find; he wanted to stand out from the rest of the crowd who only gave her £1 banknotes. The song was quickly reaching its end, so Arthur knew he had to be quick. He found a £10 and pulled it out, ready to hand to Mirage Voilà. The singer in the song hit a high note only a true opera singer could hit. As the note was held, Mirage did a slow split, making the crowd (including Arthur) go wild.

Excited, Arthur pushed through the two people in front of him to make sure Mirage would see the tenner he was holding for her. Luckily, he caught her eye, and Mirage raised an eyebrow. Arthur tried to stretch his arm further, encouraging her to take the bank note. Mirage smiled as she swung her legs around to sit on top of them and gently took the tenner out of Arthur's hand. She stuffed the note in her bra and waved her index finger, encouraging Arthur to come closer. He shimmied his way past more of the crowd where he was within arm's reach of Mirage. She lied down on her stomach, cradled his face with her hands and kissed him delicately on the lips.

"Meet me in the back after the show." she whispered into his ear. Mirage winked as she pulled away and stood up, going back to the rest of her performance. Stunned, Arthur could help but grin from ear to ear watching the rest of the performance. _I've done it_, He thought to himself. _I've fallen for a woman, and she likes _me _back! _

As the performance continued on, Arthur found himself getting caught up in the moment. He moved and swayed along with the crowd. A couple of times he went back to the bar to grab a couple more martinis. He was getting drunker by the minute.

Why hadn't he done this sooner?

Arthur came to the conclusion that tonight must have been a tribute to Eurovision, given that _all _of the songs Mirage was performing were from the honorable song contest. Somewhere in between acts, Mirage's bottom half of her dress had been torn off, revealing a skimpier white cocktail dress. For the final act, she was joined on stage by two beautifully tanned men (who looked nearly identical) dressed as firefighters. When the music started, the crowd immediately erupted (just when Arthur thought they could not get any louder) as Mirage Voilà walked as if she were on a runway with her her hands on her hips. Lights nearly consumed the stage when the beat dropped and Mirage and her backup dancers were dancing away. The two men had ripped off what they were initially wearing, leaving on only their tight underwear (which left nothing to the imagination) and their fake firefighter hats. They were good at swishing their hips and shaking their asses to make the crowd cheer. Mirage revealed that she had yet _another_ tear-away, leaving her outfit to just a one-piece that clung to her curves and breasts perfectly. Her hair that had been up was now down completely, and she was flipping her hair over and over again.

Arthur was in love.

Mirage's act ended with her doing two cartwheels and jumping into a split with the crowd practically screaming louder than the music. "Give it up for Miiiiraaaage Voilà!" the DJ cheered on.

Arthur joined the crowd in their whoops and hollers as Mirage Voilà made her way to exit the stage. She stopped for a moment and looked over her shoulder to see Arthur. She winked and then disappeared behind the curtain.

_Now's my chance!_ Arthur thought to himself. Eager and _excited_, Arthur squeezed through the crowd and found himself standing before a towering, muscular man. The man was stoic and beautiful at the same time, but he was intimidating. He crossed his arms when Arthur approached him.

"Name?" he asked.

"Oh, uh, I'm here to see Mirage Voilà! She told me to meet her after the show…" Arthur answered, practically bouncing on his toes.

The man rolled his eyes. "She tells that to everyone," he said, revealing his slight German accent. "If your name is on the list, I can let you pass."

"No, no, she talked to me! From the stage! Please," Arthur pleaded. "Let me through!"

The man groaned. "You're lucky you caught me in a good mood," he muttered. "Go ahead. But no funny business, you hear?"

"Yep. Mm-hm. Got it." Arthur blurted.

When the man stepped aside, Arthur bolted through the hallway of dressing rooms. Backstage was crazy as ever; all of the dancers from before Mirage's act were running around, getting ready to go back to their designated spots to dance. Arthur kept wandering down the hall, ignoring the strange but intrigued looks he was receiving from everyone else. The two dancers from Mirage's act were arguing over something, but Arthur couldn't understand because they were speaking so rapidly and in another language.

The shorter of the two men caught Arthur's eye and quickly stopped yelling. He scowled at Arthur and waved his hands over his head. "What the _fuck _are you looking at?" he shouted.

"What the _fuck _are you yellin' at me for?" Arthur spat back. He cringed at himself; he had too much to drink, because his temper was even shorter than before and his cockney accent was slowly turning into the sound of a barking seal. "I didn't do nothing!"

"Because you're fuckin' looking at me, that's what!" he yelled. His fists were already clenched as if he were ready to fight.

"Hey, hey, let's just...all settle down!" the other man suggested calmly. He gave Arthur a smile. "Ignore him; he's angry with me because I tripped and threw him off during our dancing. Are you looking for someone?"

Arthur straightened up his posture and grinned. "Mirage Voilà!" he answered, proudly.

The man nodded. "Ah, you're into frilly stuff, huh?" he mused, fighting a smirk. "It doesn't do much for me, but I don't judge. Her room is just down the hall a little bit more. Have fun!"

As soon as Arthur stepped away, the two men went back to arguing so loudly, the Brit could still hear them when he arrived to

Mirage's dressing room. He took a deep breath and knocked gently on the door.

The door swung open and Mirage greeted him with a smirk. "Oh, there you are!" she chirped. "I was beginning to think you were bailing on me! Come in, come in!"

Now that they were no longer deafened by music, Arthur realized that Mirage had a sweet French accent. Her voice was also slightly lower than he expected, but hey, some women had low voices. He closed the door behind him and stood still; he and Mirage staring at each other awkwardly.

Mirage sighed. "Okay, well, how do you want to do this? You want me to stay all dressed up or you want me to take it all off?" she asked, putting her hands on her hips.

"Whichever is comfortable for you." Arthur answered, shrugging.

Mirage raised her eyebrows and chuckled. "That's a first." she laughed. "Alright, give me a minute."

She stepped behind a changing station and Arthur took this time to try to relax. It had been far too long since he had a good shag, and he was now worried that he'd be rubbish at it. He wasn't even good at it in the first place with his first and only girlfriend. And the fact that he managed to peak Mirage Voilà's interest so easily was even more nerve wracking. Clearly Mirage was famous, and he'd have to impress her _big _time.

"Alright, before we get started, I have one question for you," Mirage said as she stepped out from the changing area.

At first he was excited to see that she was naked, but soon became panicked the further he looked down her fit body. Arthur quickly ran over to the door, trying to twist the door knob and escape the dressing room. Frantic, he continued to look over at Mirage, occasionally glancing down at her genitals, but the door wouldn't budge. Mirage continued to step forward without a stitch of clothing on, which revealed that she indeed was _not _a woman, and held up two different colored condom packages. Mirage smiled and finished the question:

"Pink or blue?"

* * *

**Author's**** Note:** **Hello all! It has been a while since I have posted ANYTHING on this account. It took me a bit to remember how to navigate the interface, but I think I got the hang of it! This fanfic was originally posted on Archive of Our Own in 2018. By chapter 9, a reader of the story who is now a friend, Ellie (on Ao3 her username is 3LNR), was kind enough to help edit this fanfic so you will most likely notice a difference in the quality (it will get much better and there will be fewer typos!). **

**So. The origins of this story. One day, in 2018, I got a very dumb idea of "what if Francis was a drag queen and Arthur fell in love with him?" So this story is the result of that. Of course, this story is already completed, and I will slowly be uploading each chapter when I can. For this chapter, the songs I had pictured Mirage performing to were "La Voix" by Marlena Ernman (if you are a Eurovision fan like me, you probably know that this was Sweden's 2009 entry) and "Fuego" by Eleni Foureira (Cyprus' 2018 entry). **

**Another heads up: technically, this story, "London is Burning" is just the beginning! For this is technically the end result of 3 fanfics. There are 2 prequels to this, one with GerIta and Pruhun as the main focus and the other as LietPol. This and the GerIta + PruHun stories are lighthearted. The LietPol one is intense and is still a WIP. Those stories are also on Archive of Our Own and I do plan on bringing them over here as well. It just might be a bit; so please be patient. **

**I hope you all enjoy reading this story, whether you are reading it the first time or if you are reading it again because you frequent many fanfiction sites! Please feel free to leave a comment, critique or a review (as this site calls them); I read every single one and do my best to reply to them! **

**-Katelyn** **(violinia)**


	2. Would You Like My Card?

"Uh, dude, are you okay?"

Arthur jumped up from his nap at looked up to see his cousin Alfred standing beside him. He was still tired from his adventurous weekend. "What was that?" Arthur asked, rubbing his eyes.

"I asked if you were okay?" Alfred repeated.

"Yes, yes, I'm fine. Why?" Arthur replied.

Alfred grinned. "Okay cool, 'cause the kitchen caught fire again." he finished.

"WHAT?" Arthur shouted, standing up.

"Don't worry, Matt and I found the fire extinguisher and everything is A-okay. But uh, we had to kinda give some customers' money back."

Ever since his twin cousins came from the States to London for the summer, Arthur's quiet bookstore and cafe (The Book Nook) had become a chaotic mess. Frequent customers were coming to the store less and less because Alfred and Matthew (but mainly Alfred) could not behave properly.

Alfred was a loud, rambunctious 20-year old who never knew how to keep his mouth shut. He was always running his mouth to a customer who was obviously _trying _to read and enjoy their coffee. He'd complain about how much debt he and his brother were already in because of college. Alfred would put the radio on loud rock stations and sing along to the songs as loud as he could. Alfred never cared about who he offended because Alfred walked around in his life with blinders on. Alfred only cared about Alfred.

Then, there was Matthew. Matthew was a quiet ball of anxiety. Thankfully he was nowhere near as loud as Alfred, he still would freak out over the tiniest things. When he first got to The Book Nook, Matthew could barely get a word out when he was taking people's orders for the cafe. Constantly apologizing over silly things, Matthew would trip over his own feet and stumble on his words. Arthur moved Matthew over to the register, thinking he wouldn't need to carry conversations as much. But that turned out to be a disaster as well, because Matthew would obsess over if he gave the correct amount of change or if he was understanding British currency terms correctly. But, Matthew had gotten better at handling the cafe in general. It was just honestly hard to tell by both their personalities alone that Matthew was the older twin.

And for some reason, the damn _kitchen _kept catching fire all of a sudden. Arthur never had that problem with other employees he had hired in the past.

"I don't understand how you two keep catching the kitchen on fire!" Arthur yelled, marching over to the other side of The Book Nook where the cafe was. "This has _never _been a problem!"

Matthew ran out of the kitchen with a worried look on his face and the fire extinguisher in hand. "I'm sorry, Arthur! I was trying to cook the grilled cheese special and everything was going well but then I went to take another order and everything was on fire!" Matthew explained, timidly.

Arthur could tell that the poor boy's anxiety was through the roof and chose not to raise his voice for the time being. "Accidents happen, Matthew. It's-" Arthur began.

"Oh yeah, I turned the heat up on that thing because I walked by and it wasn't cooking." Alfred blurted.

Both Matthew and Arthur glared at Alfred. "I've told you that you can't put the stove on too high!" Matthew snapped. "You've got to stop doing this!"

"Well, the thing needs to be fixed. _Obvi_." Alfred grumbled, pulling out his cell phone. "You can't cook a grilled cheese on low heat. The customer will get angry."

"No, that's not how things work around here!" Arthur hissed. "This is supposed to be a relaxing place and both of you are ruining it!"

"Dude chill out. I'm just trying to do things the right way." Alfred shrugged. "You just need a new stove."

Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath; what was he to do with these two? He couldn't push them on a plane and send them back to their mother; she would be _livid _after all of the money she spent on them for this trip. But the two of them together were just a disaster waiting to happen.

"Alright, how about this," Arthur began, trying to keep his voice low and calm. "Matthew, you run the cafe and Alfred, you run the bookstore with me." As long as Alfred was within earshot of Arthur, there was no way he could fuck anything up.

"Aw, but I want to be in the cafe!" Alfred whined. "The bookstore is hella boring."

"I'm sorry, are you 20 or are you 5? I honestly can't tell." Arthur said, pointing to the other side of the store. "Move it!"

Alfred groaned as he turned around and stepped back into the bookstore section of The Book Nook. Matthew let out a sigh of relief, smiled and went back behind the counter. Content, Arthur too went back over to the bookstore and busied himself with restocking the shelves.

Every now and again, Arthur would hear the front door chime ring, indicating a customer stepping in or out of The Book Nook. Thankfully, Arthur could hear Alfred politely greeting them as they walked in. _Maybe he does have proper manners after all._ Arthur thought, picking up a couple of books to stack. Soon the store went back to its peaceful and quiet nature, making Arthur finally feel like he could take a breath. _Those boys are going to drive me mad._

After awhile, Arthur started to feel accomplished from all of the restocking he had done. Now the shelves were looking less abysmal and instead, looked like they actually belonged in a bookstore. He took a step back to admire his work.

"Uh, dude,"

"Ugh," Arthur groaned. Why couldn't Alfred learn how to _properly _start a conversation? "What is it?"

"There's someone who's asking for this book I never heard of. Lay Mirabluh?" Alfred finished, shrugging.

Arthur narrowed his eyes. "_What?_" he sighed.

"Lay Mirabluh?" Alfred searched in his pocket and pulled out a piece of paper. "Sorry, I had the customer write it down for me because I couldn't understand what he was saying." He held the paper closer to his face and squinted. _What's the point of wearing glasses if they don't work? _Arthur thought to himself. "Oh, sorry, Lez miserable. I think."

"Oh for fuck's sake, Alfred." Arthur mumbled. "It's _Les Misérables_, you uncultured tit!" He pushed past Alfred and hurried to the front counter.

"Did you just call me a boob?" Arthur heard Alfred ask behind him.

Ignoring him completely, Arthur stepped behind the front desk and began tying into the computer furiously. "My apologies about my cousin, there." Arthur began. "He's not the brightest when it comes to literature. How he could forget such a classic is beyond me." Of course, the book popped up on the interface and indicated that there was one last copy in stock. "You're just in luck, we have one last copy. It's just-" Arthur finally looked up from the computer and looked at the customer, realizing that he knew the face immediately.

It was Mirage Voilà.

But Mirage wasn't dressed up like Mirage. No, Mirage was dressed like a regular man who wore regular clothes, who happened to of walked into a bookstore and still somehow managed to look absolutely _gorgeous _as a man.

"In the back…" Arthur finished, his voice trailing off. "W-would you like me to go get it?"

"Sure." the man replied with a smile.

Arthur briskly walked to the back of the store, passing Alfred again. "Dude, what's your deal, man?" Alfred said, chasing after Arthur.

"_Dude_, why can't you learn how to speak English?" Arthur mocked, imitating Alfred's whiny accent.

"Don't call people a boob!" Alfred whined.

But now wasn't the time to be picking fights with his cousin. No, Arthur had bigger problems to deal with. A drag queen, whom Arthur had idiotically mistaken for as a woman at a _gay _bar and nearly had sex with, just stepped into _his _bookstore asking for a book. Did Mirage Voilà recognize him? Maybe not, right? He didn't say anything after all. Maybe Arthur was simply mistaken.

With the book in hand, Arthur stepped back to the front desk and began ringing up the purchase while keeping quiet. He cleared his throat. "So, that will be-" Arthur began.

"Have we met before?" the man asked. He was still smiling and Arthur wished he'd stop doing that because he looked so _handsome_ as he smiled.

"I-I don't believe so." Arthur answered. "That will be-"

"No, no, I never forget a face. We've met before." the man replied. "You were that guy who ran out of my dressing room."

"I-I don't...recall…" Arthur lied, avoiding eye contact.

"I've never had anyone run out of my dressing room before. Was I not what you expected? I typically don't disappoint." he continued on. "Or did you want me to stay in drag? I know some men are into that."

"That'll be £13.64!" Arthur blurted.

The man took a minute to reply. "£13.64, hm. I _know _I have £10, because _you _gave it to me." he said, softly.

"I haven't the faintest clue of what you're talking about." Arthur lied.

The man gave Arthur a glare. "You are kidding, yes?" he huffed. "Does Mirage Voilà ring any bells? You were at _**Atomica**_ the other night, were you not?"

Arthur really wished he'd stop talking. Not only were there customers around, but Arthur's cousins were around too, and no one in his family knew that Arthur swung that way. "I-I…" Arthur stammered. "You d-don't understand, I made a mistake. I was drunk a-and…" The man looked at him confused. "Look, I'm not…"

"Gay?" the man finished. He laughed. "Are you kidding me? Have you looked at yourself?" He paused when he realized that

Arthur wasn't laughing. His face then fell into a frown. "Oh..."

"Will you please just pay for your book and leave?" Arthur whispered harshly.

The man just continued to stare at Arthur. He then looked through his wallet, pulled out a few bank notes and laid them on the counter. Arthur sighed with relief and took the exact payment and put it in the cash register.

"Thank you for shopping at The Book Nook, please come again!" Arthur said, putting on the best cheering voice he could after having an argument.

The man then handed Arthur a business card. "I'm sorry for the misunderstanding. I know you're probably not going to like this and are going to throw this out, but, call me if you ever want to talk." he stated. He then gather his new book and stepped out of the store. Arthur sighed with relief that he had finally left and took a glance at the business card, reading the name of its owner:

_Francis Bonnefoy_

_Associate Professor_

_Psychology Department _


	3. Potluck Dinner

Francis could empathize with the guy; he remembered when he "tried" to be simply straight. The trying went on for years in his teens, until he got to college and decided that sexuality didn't really matter. What mattered was what felt _right_. So Francis came to the conclusion that he was pansexual, and allowed himself to have more fun in life.

Yes, he was a professor by day, which seemed to throw everyone off. But come the weekend nights, he was the ever beautiful Mirage Voilà, a personality that ultimately saved his life.

Mirage Voilà helped Francis when he needed it most. At the lowest point of his life, Mirage emerged from the sandy depths of Francis' imagination and told him to pick himself up. Mirage was there to comfort Francis when his father punched him so hard, his face was heavily bruised and he could not see out of his right eye for months. Mirage taught Francis how cover his bruises. Mirage taught Francis how to be strong when everything was falling apart.

After all, life was just one big mirage.

Francis did not know what has occurred in that man's life. All he knew was that the owner of The Book Nook needed someone to talk to. Denying a huge part of yourself was no way to live, and Francis didn't want anyone to live like that. He saw a glimmer of it when he was a boy, and he left it for good when he left France. No one else deserved to live in such denial.

Once a month, the whole gang that worked at _**Atomica **_got together for a meal at the club's owner's house. Francis took his time climbing the stairway of the apartment complex, trying to clear his head from the encounter he had earlier that day. When Francis rang the doorbell to the flat, the door immediately swung open and he was greeted by a Golden Retriever. "Hey Aster!" Francis sang, kneeling down to the dog's level. He scratched the pup's head and looked up to see Feliciano standing by the door, smiling as per usual.

"Sorry!" Feliciano apologized. "Aster, come back inside. You can get Francis to pet you _inside _the apartment."

Aster was really the dog of Feliciano's husband, Ludwig. When Ludwig and Feliciano got married, they both agreed on raising dogs instead of children. They had fostered puppies for many years, and they always seemed happy. Francis had never seen the two argue, and their love seemed to be something only found in the movies, thus leaving the Frenchman quite jealous of them. But he wouldn't replace their friendship even if he was foolishly envious; they were of the greatest friends Francis had ever had.

They also owned _**Atomica**_, after all, and they constantly booked him gigs.

"It's alright." Francis replied, standing back up. Though he did not really care for them, he knew dogs meant no harm. Most of the time. Aster was a friendly dog, though, and he always got excited to see newcomers at the door.

"He just gets so excited." Feliciano said, scratching the dog's ears. He tried to lead the dog in turning back around into the flat. "Come on, back inside silly! Food is inside! Make yourself at home, Francis!"

Francis followed Feliciano and sweet little Aster inside the flat. Inside, Ludwig was standing at the sink, cleaning the dishes Feliciano's brother, Lovino, had used while he was cooking. See, Ludwig had a thing for his possessions to be neat and tidy. It wasn't OCD per say, but if something was out of place, Ludwig could easily get annoyed. So whenever he and Feliciano held potluck dinners for their friends, Francis was always amused to watch Ludwig with his obsession for cleaning up after everyone once they had finished.

"Lud, Francis is here." Feliciano said. He went over to the pantry and pulled out a huge bag of dog food for Aster.

Ludwig glanced up from his busy work and nodded. "Evening Francis. Glad you could make it." he said. "Make yourself at home. Hopefully Antonio, Gilbert and Erzébet will be here soon." Ludwig added, setting the dish rag in between the two sinks.

Francis took a seat on the couch and placed his bottle of wine on the coffee table. Lovino was cooking the main course, running back and forth in the kitchen. "Hey Lovino," Francis chirped. "I thought Antonio would have been here with you."

Lovino didn't turn around from looking at the stove. "Don't talk to me while I'm cooking." he replied, grabbing the olive oil off of the counter.

"Aw, did you two have a fight again?" Francis teased.

"I _said_, don't talk to me while I'm cooking!" Lovino shouted this time. He slammed the open olive oil bottle on the counter, spilling the liquid everywhere. Francis heard Ludwig groan and quickly rip some paper towels to clean it up.

Because Lovino was being evasive, Francis assumed that he and Antonio had gotten into another fight. The two of them were a tumultuous couple, but Francis could tell that they loved each other. The problem was Lovino, mostly, because he had an incredibly short temper. His temper stemmed from his numerous insecurities. Francis concluded that Lovino always felt that he needed to defend himself if someone dared to critique him, no matter how small the critique. So, Antonio's and Lovino's relationship was always off and on mainly because of Lovino's defensiveness.

The doorbell rang, but before Feliciano could hurry to open the door, Ludwig's brother Gilbert burst through the door, hollering and cheering. "Hell yeah, who's ready to partaaay?!" Gilbert shouted, stepping into the flat. He held a pack of beer over his head as he went on cheering.

Ludwig sighed and threw the paper towels into the trash can. Gilbert was Ludwig's older brother, the main DJ at _**Atomica**_ and really only cared about partying. The weird thing about the two German siblings was how they reacted to a stern upbringing; Ludwig chose to stay within his routine whereas Gilbert _thrived_ on breaking routine.

"Gilbert, keep your voice down, _please_." Ludwig pleaded. "This is not a party, and this is not the bar. This is a _potluck_. A potluck is-"

"A quiet get together between friends where they laugh and eat and drink and be merry and yada-yada-yada. I _know_." Gilbert mocked. "Just...it's a _type _of party so, you know." he added, shrugging.

"It's a _quiet_ party." Ludwig elaborated. "Now get out of the way so everyone else can come in. _Please_."

"_Ja, ja_, got it." Gilbert mumbled, wiping his nose. He stepped aside and in came Antonio and Gilbert's beautiful girlfriend, Erzsébet. Feliciano closed the door behind them and clapped his hands together.

"Now that everyone is here, can I get anyone started on drinks? I think dinner will be ready in a few minutes, right Lovino?" Feliciano asked.

"DON'T. TALK. TO ME." Lovino hissed.

"Yep, I think 5 more minutes and we'll be able to start dinner." Feliciano confirmed. "If you have any snacks or appetizers, you can just place them on the island over here."

Everyone began to place their snacks, appetizers, and drinks on the island; once they were settled in, Lovino had finished cooking their meal. They grabbed their plates and piled on as much food as they could. Once they were all seated, numerous conversations came up as they ate. Francis watched all of his friends closely and kept a sly smile on his face; he loved people watching, even if no words were being said.

"I have to ask you, Francis, because I'm so curious!" Feliciano said, taking a sip of his wine. "That guy that was looking for you after the show, did you two have _fun_?"

Francis chuckled. "He ran out of the room when I stood in front of him, naked." he answered.

Everyone gasped (well, everyone except Gilbert, who laughed), and leaned back in their chairs.

"You're losing your charm, Franny!" Gilbert teased.

"No, that's not it." Francis sighed. "I ran into the guy today, he's the owner of that cute little bookstore? The Book Nook?"

"Oh I went there! It's cute!" Feliciano chimed in.

"And I was kind of joking around with him, saying how that has never happened before and...the poor guy isn't being honest with himself." Francis finished.

"What do you mean?" Ludwig asked.

"He's denying to himself that he's gay." Francis clarified.

Gilbert snorted. "Then what was he doing at a gay club?!" he asked.

Erzébet smacked her boyfriend's arm. "Gilbert, don't be mean!" she hissed. "Some people struggle more than others."

"What? It doesn't make sense!" Gilbert shrugged.

"He was testing himself." Francis replied. "If he can go to a gay club and not fall for another man, then he can pass as straight. That's his mindset."

Ludwig sighed. "Which, he clearly failed." he muttered. If there was anyone sitting at this table who would _truly _be empathizing in the situation, it would be Ludwig. When Francis first met Ludwig a couple of years ago, he was very much in denial about his sexuality. Ludwig turned to bodybuilding and became a trainer at the gym to hide and deny his sexuality. Francis remembered speaking with Ludwig about it, and Ludwig deliberately said that as long as he kept building muscle, he _couldn't _be gay.

Then Ludwig met Feliciano, and of course, everything changed.

"Poor guy. He just needs to find the proper support system." Ludwig added, reaching for his beer bottle. "It's just unfortunate that he hasn't figured it out yet."

Feliciano snickered. "You're one to talk," he mumbled under his breath. "Remember how shy you were with me? It was so funny and cute."

"Stop." Ludwig groaned.

Francis laughed to himself; it still seemed that Ludwig didn't like care for being called _cute_. "Well, anyways, I gave the guy my card." Francis said. He picked up his wine glass and swirled the velvety red liquid around. "I doubt anything will come from it, because he seems pretty stuck in his ways. But it's worth the shot."

"You're just mad because the guy ran out of your dressing room. How _dare _someone reject _thee_ Mirage Voilà!" Lovino snickered.

It was partially true, but Francis wasn't going to admit that. Not tonight, anyhow. "No, I'm concerned about his well being." Francis replied. It was also true, but Francis was a little bit more frustrated with the fact that someone got him hot and bothered for nothing. It had been such a good performance too, and he had no where to put all of that energy…

"Oh bullshit!" Lovino snapped. "You wanted someone to fuck, thought some ugly schmuck could make you feel good so you picked him and the fact that _he _rejected _you_ makes you angry." Lovino leaned back in his chair and smirked. "See, I can pull that therapist stunt like you too, Francy-pants."

"I didn't think he was _that _ugly." Feliciano chimed in. "Just...odd."

"Really? This is the guy who was staring at us while we were arguing, right? He doesn't trim his eyebrows! He clearly doesn't care nor expect anyone to look at him if he can't even be bothered to do _that_." Lovino argued.

"Lovi, don't be so shallow. Remember how you didn't really groom your-" Antonio began.

"I'm sorry, but was I talking to you, Toni?!" Lovino hissed.

Francis sighed and shook his head. "Well, I do mean it when I'm concerned about how he's doing. No one should feel that way about themselves, nor should they feel so isolated." he said, softly. He leaned his elbow on the table and rested his chin on his palm. "Besides, he is kinda cute when he's flustered."

Gilbert drummed his fingers on the table, his indication that he was bored with the conversation. He pushed his chair back so that he was balancing on its back two legs. "Great, so when's dessert?" he asked with a grin.

Erzsébet pushed his chair back down to all fours. "How many times have I asked you _not _to do that?" she stated. "You gave yourself a concussion three months ago because you leaned too far and smacked your head against the marble counter behind you!"

"Ah, it's fine!" Gilbert grumbled, leaning the chair back again. Seeing how his girlfriend wasn't pleased, he put the chair back down. "_Fine_, I'll be good."

As everyone all went back to arguing and carrying on their own small discussions, Francis couldn't refrain himself from smiling for the rest of the evening.


	4. Let's Set a Date

Mornings were an absolute terror.

Ever since the twins moved into Arthur's tiny flat, the Englishman felt that he couldn't breathe in the morning. First off, Alfred and Matthew both slept on the floor in the living room. Neither of them could agree on alternating the nights of sleeping on the pull out like Arthur had hoped, so they both were somehow content on sleeping sprawled out on the floor. Second, trying to use the bathroom when he wanted was a luxury. Arthur had to change the time when he would wake up just so he could use the bathroom and take a shower in a timely manner. Matthew was fairly quick in the bathroom in the morning; he did his business and then he got out.

But Alfred?

Alfred seemed to hog the bathroom the most in the morning, and it wasn't like he spent the majority of the time making sure he looked decent enough for the day. No, Alfred spent the majority of his time just sitting on the toilet, looking at his phone and losing track of time. Arthur at first was worried that Alfred was occupying himself with _other _things while looking on the phone, but it turns out that he has no qualms of sitting on the toilet for a long amount of time.

Third, was the whole breakfast ordeal. Alfred always wanted a large breakfast and practically expected it every day. "Eggs over easy, some bacon but not too crisp! And I want some toast. Oh, and maybe some hash browns." Alfred would say _every _morning.

"Why don't you learn to make it yourself?" Arthur would say.

"You're the adult, man." Alfred would reply.

"I'm only six years older than you, twit!"

Matthew, on the other hand, thankfully made breakfast for himself. He typically was content with eating cereal for breakfast, though occasionally he wanted pancakes or waffles. Every now and again, Alfred would manage to convince Matthew in making breakfast for him.

_They're twins, but how did only _one _of them end up so spoiled? _Arthur asked himself, pulling on his pants. Arthur picked out a dress shirt with a pale blue undertone and slowly buttoned it. He stared at himself in the mirror, thinking about the experiences he had had in the past few days.

Of course he had to deal with the twins for the whole summer, but then there was his whole sexuality issue. There were so many stigmas around being gay, stereotypes around being gay, that Arthur didn't want anyone to think of him differently if he outed himself. So he kept _trying _to be "normal," he wanted to pass as straight. He hoped maybe eventually he'd fix himself. But every now and then, he'd falter, and curiosity got the best of him.

Arthur stepped out of his room and quietly tiptoed around his sleeping cousins. He grabbed his wallet and pulled out Francis Bonnefoy's business card. It read that he was a psychology professor, so Arthur did not understand why this man thought he could help him. _Perhaps he feels sorry for a bloke like me. He takes pity in that I can't open up and have some fun. _Arthur thought. He was tempted to give Francis Bonnefoy a call, but to be frank, he was too nervous. Francis Bonnefoy couldn't have been _expecting _Arthur to call him, after all, right? Francis Bonnefoy was just being kind, because that's the type of person he is.

"Good morning, Arthur." Matthew whispered, his voice groggy from sleep.

"Morning, Matt." Arthur replied half-heartedly, still lost in his own thoughts.

"I was um, wondering if you could move please?" Matthew added.

"Hm?"

"You're kind of standing on my hair."

Arthur took a few steps back and looked down at the floor. Yep, he had definitely been standing on Matthew's hair. "Sorry, Matt." Arthur apologized. "Your hair kind of feels like the carpet."

Matthew laughed and sat up. "It's okay; I've been meaning to get it trimmed." he said. "Do you mind if I make waffles for breakfast? I can make some extra for you if you want."

"I don't mind; sounds good." Arthur replied. He was still staring at Francis Bonnefoy's business card, trying to make up his mind.

"Cool." Matthew stood up from his sleeping bag and made his way to the bathroom.

When (and whenever) Matthew closed the bathroom door behind him, it always seemed to be the cue for Alfred to sit right up from sleep suddenly. He snorted loudly as he sat up, then he opened and closed his mouth a few times to clear his dry mouth, making audible smacking noises. Alfred looked around the flat for a few seconds (not that he could see without his glasses) and grabbed his phone that laid beside him.

This was a ritual every. Single. Morning.

"Morning, Alfred." Arthur said, putting Francis Bonnefoy's card in his pocket.

Alfred lied back down before unironically muttering: "Suh, dude."

Arthur took a deep breath and rolled his eyes; it wasn't like he and his cousins were that far apart, so why did he feel like he was the grandpa in the situation? "Would you like me to make you some coffee?" Arthur offered, putting on his polite voice.

"Coffee sounds great." Alfred mumbled. The 20-year old was already lost in his phone, typing away in a text message to some girl he probably met online. "Oh, d'you think you can make some eggs? And bacon? And-"

"Some toast and hash browns? No. I don't think I can." Arthur replied. "I think Matthew is going to make some waffles for us."

"Waffles? Ugh." Alfred groaned. "That's not a real breakfast."

_You're literally the worst human being, you know that right? _Arthur thought.

Matthew stepped out of the bathroom and wondered over his suitcase to grab a change of clothes. Alfred scrambled to his feet and rushed to the unoccupied bathroom. "Great timing, Matt; I gotta piss like no one's business." Alfred said, pushing past his brother.

Matthew sighed as he pulled out a t-shirt, a pair of shorts, and a pair of underwear. "Sometimes I wonder how much less anxious I'd be if I didn't have Alfred around." he mumbled under his breath.

Arthur chuckled; he was wondering the exact same thing.

The Book Nook was created when Arthur was feeling nostalgic for his childhood. When he was little, Arthur created a small corner in his grandmother's house filled with blankets and old Christmas lights to read his favorite books. He was never one to be sporty, like his brothers, so he liked keeping to himself. And thankfully, Arthur's grandmother was kind enough to let him create his own special space.

The Book Nook was Arthur's prized possession, despite him never wanting to be a store owner in his life. When he went through college, he majored in literature, and wished to go farther in writing when he graduated. But then life turned out to be different when he left school; reality basically burned his dreams alive, so he tried owning a bookstore for a change.

At least Arthur was still surrounded by books.

"Thank you for shopping at The Book Nook! Have a lovely day!" Arthur called after to the customer. He leaned on the counter, groaned and rubbed his eyes. Waking up early in the morning _just _to get to the bathroom before anyone else was starting to catch up to him. Though, business seemed to be going smoothly at the moment with Alfred out of the way by basically restocking and organizing the shelves. Matthew had gotten really good at running the cafe by himself, to which Arthur was proud of him. Things were starting to look up with the two of them helping.

Arthur pulled out Francis Bonnefoy's card once again and stared at the phone number. A voice in the back of his head pleaded for him to call the number, because it wouldn't hurt to talk to someone about the emotions he was working so hard to suppress. But Arthur was just fine being by himself; he made a stupid mistake over the weekend to be adventurous.

"Why do you keep looking at that thing?" Alfred asked.

"I dunno." Arthur sighed, putting the card face down on the counter. "Don't you have restocking to do?"

"Yeah, I finished." Alfred said, grinning. "Can I go help Matt in the cafe now?"

"No, you'll stress him out. Here, you can run the register for a bit." Arthur replied, stepping round the desk.

Alfred pouted. "C'mon, man. Working in this half of the Nook is boring as hell."

"No. You can run the register for a bit." Arthur repeated. He made sure to grab the card before he completely walked away. "I'm taking a break anyways."

He ignored Alfred's complaints as he stepped out of the front door and pulled out his phone. Arthur typed the number into the keypad and triple checked that it was put in correctly. He took a deep breath and pressed the green button to dial the number.

The line rang a few times before Francis Bonnefoy picked up. Arthur prayed that Francis Bonnefoy wouldn't pick up.

"_Salut_, Francis speaking." he answered.

And just like that, Arthur found himself speechless. He hadn't thought through what he was going to say or what he wanted to talk about. What if Francis forgot? What if he laughed?

"Hello? Is anyone there?" Francis asked, confused.

"Y-you gave me your card?" Arthur said, finally.

"Hm?" Francis replied.

"You gave me your card. Yesterday." Arthur repeated, smacking himself in the head. Who starts a conversation like this?

"Oh, yes! You're the gentleman who owns The Book Nook, yes?" Francis said. "I'm sorry, I don't think I caught your name."

"Arthur."

"Nice to meet you, Arthur. Well, at least formally on the phone." Francis joked, laughing. "So, how can I help you?"

"Uh," Arthur hesitated. "I um, well...you said I should give you a call."

"If you wanted to."

"Oh. Um." Arthur leaned against the wall and sighed. "Perhaps...we could set up a sort of meeting? Maybe...at your office or...?"

"Hold on a moment, let me pull up my calendar here." Francis said. There was silence for a minute. "If you'd like, you can come to my office during the lunch hour next Monday. I have my special summer lecture at 11:00, and it's around 50 minutes. I have a lunch break right after."

"Sure, sure. So, around noon then?" Arthur asked.

"Yep, as long as that works for you?"

"It works. Where-"

"Is it okay if I text you the directions? I'm sorry, you've caught me in a meeting." Francis stated.

"Yeah, yeah. That's fine. Sorry, I didn't know…" Arthur murmured.

Francis chuckled. "No worries. So I'll see you next week, then?" Francis asked.

"Yeah." Arthur confirmed.

"Great. _Adieu_!"

The line went dead and Arthur felt as if he could breathe again. His heart was practically pounding in his chest, for some reason. Wasn't it a bit weird to be setting up a meeting with a complete stranger? Especially when that stranger was in full drag when they had met?

Arthur did his best to shrug the worries off and stepped back inside The Book Nook where he heard arguing coming from the cafe. "Get out of my cafe, Al!" he heard Matthew shout. It was odd for anxious Matt to raise his voice, so Arthur knew he must have missed something while he had stepped out.

"It's not _your _cafe, it's Arthur's! Just let me help you with the food! I'm so fuckin' bored!" Alfred shouted back.

"Language!" Arthur yelled as he stepped into the cafe.

Both Alfred and Matthew froze and slowly turned to face Arthur. "Aw fuck. Sorry man." Alfred apologized.

"When there are customers in here, you _will not _swear!" Arthur hissed, stepping up to the counter. "Do you understand?"

"I'm sorry man, it slipped out!" Alfred snapped.

"I don't care! I swear if I lose more customers because of _your_ behavior," Arthur glared at Alfred. "And I'm talk to _you _specifically, Alfred. _Grow up_."

"I am grown up, I'm 20!" Alfred spat back.

"Then act like it!" Arthur shouted. "Get back over there and do what I've asked you to do!"

When Arthur turned back around, everyone sitting in the cafe quickly looked away and back into their books. He realized that he had just done what he always wanted to avoid with these two; cause a scene. Arthur inhaled deeply and walked back over to the store side. He sat down at the register and held his head in his hands.

Maybe talking to a random stranger was exactly what he needed after all.


	5. A Formal Meeting

As usual, Francis was running late.

His 11:00 summer lecture ended ten minutes till noon, and since it was a special seminar and was in the lecture hall, the Frenchman had to sprint across campus just to get back to his office. Normally, he'd take his time, but today (of all days) he agreed to meet Arthur, the owner of The Book Nook. And the poor guy was probably already lost somewhere on campus trying to find the psychology building.

As Francis entered the elevator, he bent over for a few seconds to catch his breath. _I dance for three nights in a row with no problem, but I can't run across campus without getting winded? _He thought. The elevator doors opened and Francis saw a thin man quietly sitting in one of the cushioned chairs outside of the main office.

"Arthur?" Francis asked, walking closer to him.

The blond quickly turned to look up at Francis and smiled nervously. "Francis?" he replied.

Francis sighed with relief. "Good, you had no problems finding the building, then?" he asked.

"I did after asking 3 or 4 students." Arthur said, chuckling. He stood up and offered his hand. "I suppose we should get on the right foot this time. Arthur Kirkland."

Francis smiled. "Francis Bonnefoy." he stated, shaking Arthur's hand. "My office is just around the corner."

The two men walked down the short hallway and Francis unlocked the door to his office. He stepped aside. "After you." he said, smiling. Arthur returned the smile and stepped into the office. Francis followed and closed the door. "Feel free to sit on either the chair or the couch; whichever you think is more comfortable."

"Is this a meeting or a therapy session?" Arthur asked.

"I'm not _legally _a therapist, so, a meeting." Francis said, sitting down in his swivel chair. He sighed with relief; it was good to get off of his feet. "So, how are you? Your book store is rather nice. It's doing well?"

Arthur nodded as he sat down on the couch. "Yeah, it's been doing well for about a year now. I really like it, surprisingly. The book you bought, is it to your liking?" he answered.

Francis answered with a nod. "Can't go wrong with such a wonderful classic." he added.

"I was surprised to see that you're a professor. You seem a bit...young." Arthur went on.

Francis smirked. "I suppose I'm young; I'm turning 29 this year. Dreading it." he laughed. "So, I just have to ask...what made you walk into _**Atomica**_?"

Arthur frowned. His shoulders tensed up and Francis could tell that he was clenching his teeth. "You know how curiosity hits you? I never really been to a club before, and wanted some space away from my cousins so…" Arthur explained.

"So, you just walked in...because you were curious?" Francis asked. He knew Arthur was lying; the moment Francis locked eyes with Arthur as Mirage and took the tenner out of Arthur's hands, Francis knew Arthur was having the time of his life.

"Yeah. I mean, is that too weird?" Arthur replied, scowling.

Francis sighed; Arthur had a short temper, and Francis had already struck a nerve.

"I mean, you just flat out said I was gay! Which I'm not! Well, some men are attractive I guess. But I like women! Curvy women! With...big breasts and-"

Francis held up a hand; he knew Arthur was flat out lying and making a fool out of himself. "Stop. You don't have to go on." he said, trying not to laugh. "So you like Mirage Voilà? She's your type then."

"Yeah, yeah. She's my type." Arthur confirmed quickly. He kept looking away as he spoke, but was sure to look at Francis when he was not speaking.

Francis nodded. "Okay." he said, shrugging. "Is there anything else you want to talk about?"

Arthur stared at Francis for a long minute and huffed. They sat in silence for a while, with Arthur slouching in his chair a bit with his arms crossed and his face turned away from Francis.

"How did you figure it out?" Arthur finally asked.

"Pardon?" Francis replied, taken aback.

"How did you figure it out so quickly, hm?"

Francis tilted his head. "Figure what out?" He knew what Arthur was referring to, but it was always good for someone to say it aloud.

"Life...I mean. Like, how did you wind up a professor _and _a drag queen? Seems a bit much if you ask me." Arthur clarified, still avoiding eye contact. Francis knew what Arthur _really _meant was "how did you figure out your sexuality so easily?" But that would be a conversation for another day, perhaps.

"Well, everyone needs a day job." Francis mused. He leaned forward and rested his elbows on the desk. "I got into drag right after college. As I worked on my post graduate degrees, drag was a source of income for me. I tried to give it up when I started this job, but I missed it a lot. So I went back into the scene a couple of years ago."

"And you're gay?" Arthur asked bluntly.

"The gender of the person I have sex or fall in love with does not matter to me." Francis answered. "It bothers you, I'm guessing?"

"No. Well, yeah. Not really. I dunno." Arthur rambled. His face was turning red.

Francis sighed; he hadn't taken into account that Arthur had an awkward personality and clearly had trouble coming out of his shell when alcohol wasn't present. "Look, I feel terrible about our little encounter. How can I make it up to you?" Francis questioned.

Arthur raised his eyebrows. "Oh you don't have to worry about that." he said, scooting up to the edge of the couch. "I was drunk and shouldn't have...assumed." Arthur laughed nervously. "You know what they say when you assume." He was ready to leave, Francis could tell, and if he walked out that door, Francis was sure he'd never see the cute Brit ever again.

"No, really. I feel bad. There has to be-" Francis continued.

"How do you stop being something you don't want to be?" Arthur blurted.

Francis froze. Such a harsh question that came out of nowhere. Is that how Arthur really felt? He knew his sexuality but didn't want to be himself? "Why wouldn't you want to be yourself?" Francis asked.

"I just...I come from a strict religious background and...well, I dunno. I mean, I stopped going to church _ages _ago but certain things stick, you know? And people are just so judgmental." Arthur went on.

Suddenly, it was all starting to make sense to Francis. Coming from a strict, religious background (Catholic background, Francis assumed) made Arthur feel that he was cursed. He felt that if he was able to be comfortable in his sexuality, something terrible would happen. Without meeting his family, Francis couldn't know for sure if Arthur felt his whole family would disown him if he came out of the closet.

"It probably doesn't make sense," Arthur continued. "But I thought you might have some insight. Given that you know psychology best."

Francis leaned back into his chair, dumbfounded. "There is no way to stop being who you are, Arthur." he said. "The best thing for you to do is to embrace it. You are who you are." He paused. "Can I ask you to challenge yourself?"

Arthur shrugged. "Sure."

"Why don't you come back to _**Atomica**_ again this weekend?" Francis suggested. Once again, Arthur stiffened up and his face turned red. "Look, I don't know your life story and I can't figure out what you're into, but what I _can _tell you is that you looked like you were having fun that night. And you seem like the person who needs to enjoy his life a little bit more."

Arthur hesitated. "I'll only go if you're there." Arthur bartered.

Francis smirked and chuckled. "As Mirage Voilà or as Francis Bonnefoy?"

"Whichever." Arthur mumbled. He then smiled a little. "Maybe as Francis Bonnefoy."

Ding. There it was. _See,_ Francis thought. _You _do _know what you want._

Francis stood up. "Good, sounds like a date." he said. He offered his hand and added a wink and a smile. "It was good seeing you again, Arthur."

Arthur stood up and shook Francis' hand. "Likewise."


	6. Dance Rehearsal

"I'm telling you, Feli, it's one-two then _jump_, three-four shake your hips!" Lovino instructed, nearly shouting. The two brothers were practicing their new dance routine and had been arguing all afternoon. Feliciano always had two left feet because he was born clumsy. Lovino was frustrated that his brother couldn't keep up with the simple dance moves.

And Francis was trying not to laugh at the both of them.

"I swear that the married life has made you slower." Lovino added.

"I think it's made me appreciate life more." Feliciano replied, going back to his original stance.

"Oh really? I didn't know taking it up the ass so much made you appreciate things in life." Lovino hissed.

"At least I'm getting it up the ass. When was the last time you and Antonio shared a bed?" Feliciano taunted.

Lovino took off his heels and threw them on the floor. "That's it! I hate you so much!" he shouted, stomping off of the stage.

"Where are you going?!" Francis hollered. He put his hands on his hips, watching Lovino march away. "We're not done with dance practice!"

"I'm done!" Lovino shouted back.

"No you're not, get back here!" Francis yelled back. Why did Lovino have to be such a whiny baby all the time? Francis turned around to face Feliciano. "Can't you bite your tongue?"

Feliciano grinned. "What? He asked for it." he said, giggling.

Francis was about to argue with Feliciano, but was interrupted by hearing doors slamming. "_Merde_," Francis muttered under his breath. He marched down the stage steps, the sound of his heels echoing in the empty club. It was always him who had to clean up Lovino's and Feliciano's messes. That was the problem with the two Vargas brothers; one had the shortest temper Francis had ever seen while the other secretly a little shit.

How Francis hated the both of them sometimes.

Pushing through the large doors to the backstage, Francis ran after Lovino. "Lovino, if you do not get your ass back on that stage, I am going to kick this stiletto so far up your ass, you'll be constipated for months!"

Lovino stopped in his tracks and turned around. "You won't do that; those are Saint Laurent stilettos." he replied, smugly.

He was right; Francis wouldn't sacrifice these shoes even if his life depended on it. "Fine, but you need to stop getting angry at the _stupidest _things!" Francis snapped. "So what if Feli trips a lot? He _always _gets it right at the performance! And so what if he purposefully says to make you angry? What _should _you do? Don't respond!"

"But-" Lovino protested.

"No! You want to know why your relationships with people, family or whatever, don't work? It's because you're so immature!" Francis continued.

Lovino scowled. "Oh like you're mature?" he said, crossing his arms. "You're just as immature as _all _of us. If Feli said that to you, you'd get pissed too!"

Francis clenched his teeth; as usual, Lovino was missing the point. It wasn't about who was immature, it was about Lovino's _temper _always being out of control. His temper was one of the reasons why the couldn't get as much done in their practices. Francis would prefer to have back up dancers for _every _song he performed, but because Lovino was such a hot head, half of the time there would only be one song where Feli and Lovino would join Francis on the stage.

"Enough." Francis sighed. "Learn to control your temper. Get back on stage."

Lovino smirked. "On one condition." he replied.

Francis rolled his eyes. "_What_?"

"Let me put duct tape on Feli's mouth to shut him up." he finished.

_I should put duct tape on _both _of your mouths._ Francis thought. "I guess." he groaned.

Lovino clapped his hands once and rubbed them together as if he had the perfect evil scheme. He ran into one of the dressing rooms to grab a roll of tape and hurried back to the main stage. Francis shook his head and tied his hair back as he made his way to the stage. There he saw Lovino and Feliciano running around on the stage; Francis managed to walk between the two without getting hit and took his spot in the center stage. There was the thud behind him followed by muffled noises.

"Are you two finished?!" Francis asked, perturbed. He looked over his shoulder at the two brothers.

"Yep!" Lovino replied. He tossed the roll of duct tape off of the stage which led to it bouncing off of a few tables and it crashing into several chairs.

Once the noise settled down, Francis sighed. "Good. Music!"

Silence.

"For fuck's sake! GILBERT!" Francis hollered.

At his DJ station, Gilbert popped out from under it with a huge grin. "Are you guys done chasing each other?" he answered.

Francis gave no answer but a stern look.

"I'll take that as a yes." Gilbert added, snickering, and pressing a button which started the music.

The song's introduction began, and the trio began to slowly dance in sync. They swayed their arms with the drifting melody and Francis caught himself closing his eyes, drifting along with the music. Performing always seemed therapeutic for Francis; it was when he was on stage did he finally feel that he could let loose and truly be himself. At night, that's when people truly came alive and let go of their worries. In the night life, no one cared about your life story, they only cared about enjoying themselves for once. So when Mirage Voilà came to life, Francis felt free.

Everything was going great; Francis enjoyed himself dancing with high kicks, cartwheels and hair flips. Suddenly, his trance was broken when there was a screech from behind him and the music stopped abruptly.

"Why'd you push me?!" Lovino cried. Francis turned around to see that Lovino had fallen off of the stage. As Lovino climbed back on the stage (not gracefully…), Francis looked to Feliciano for an answer. Feliciano took a step back, shrugged and pointed to the duct tape on his mouth.

Francis reached over and ripped the piece of duct tape off of Feliciano's face. "Oh _thank you_!" he said, relieved. "I didn't push him! He _fell _off!" he continued to ramble.

"He pushed me!" Lovino repeated.

Francis pulled at his hair slightly. "I can't deal with you two today." Francis sighed. "Let's be done for the day."

"No, no, no, no! I'll be good! Promise!" Feliciano pleaded.

"How many times do I have to tell you that you need to get another dancer!" Lovino said. He stood incredibly close to Francis and his anger was starting to show through his hands as he spoke.

There had been many times Francis had thought about replacing both of his backup dancers, and he had tried at one time, but no one else got the crowd roaring more than Lovino and Feliciano. Besides, Feliciano was a co-owner of _**Atomica**_, and organized more than half of the shows at the bar, so rejecting him wouldn't pan out too well.

Replacing either of them was not an option.

"You know what I should do? Tell Ludwig how you behave! There should be consequences for your behavior!" Lovino hissed.

Feliciano snickered. "Joke's on you! I _like _being punished!"

Before Francis could join the argument, Ludwig stepped onto the stage, putting all of his focus on looking the clipboard in hand. "Is everything going alright?" Ludwig asked, not bothering to look up. He was writing something else down on the paper.

"Yes." Francis answered before Lovino could.

"_Gut_," Ludwig sighed. He turned to Francis."So, I have a few things to bring to your attention. We need to bump up the performance you guys are working on to this weekend instead of the next."

"_What?!_" Francis, Lovino and Feliciano exclaimed.

"It's being moved because our guest we were having this week had a mix up. I just got off of the phone with them. So they're coming next week." Ludwig explained. "Is that going to be a problem?"

"No." Francis said quickly. _Of course _it was a problem; they were simply not ready. Not with Lovino having his temper tantrums and Feliciano being obnoxious.

Besides, Francis technically had a date this weekend with Arthur.

"Who's the guest?" Francis asked.

"Roksana Pierogi." Ludwig replied. "As usual, there was miscommunication between Roksana's manager and I. I hope this doesn't cause too much of a problem."

Francis took a deep breath and nodded; he remembered last year when Ludwig booked the Polish drag queen and it had been infuriating for him. Ludwig is an organized gentleman, and Roksana and her manager were rather...the opposite, to say the least. However, the nice thing about Roksana Pierogi was that she was a _phenomenal _performer, which made up for the unorganized skills.

She was _almost _as good as Mirage Voilà, not that Francis would admit someone was better than him.

"Is there a chance I can talk to you in private?" Francis asked, gently tapping Ludwig's shoulder.

Ludwig nodded, waved for him to follow him and walked off of the stage. They walked into Ludwig's office and Francis closed the door gently behind him. "There's a little bit of a problem." Francis said, turning around.

Ludwig sat down in his chair and groaned. "And that is?" he grumbled.

"After today, Lovino and Feliciano are _not_ going to be ready to dance." Francis clarified.

"It's only Monday." Ludwig replied, pulling out other folders and started looking through bills.

"But they _won't _stop fighting!" Francis whined, falling into the loveseat that sat against the wall.

"It's only Monday." Ludwig repeated. "Is that all?"

Francis crossed his legs and sighed. "I just don't think we can pull it off this weekend." he continued to complain.

"It's. Only. Monday." Ludwig looked up from the paperwork. "You've never had a problem with a last minute routine before."

"I know but...this time they're just being so bad. Feli won't stop instigating arguments and Lovino won't stop screaming."

Ludwig took a deep breath and folded his hands on the desk. "Fine. I'll talk to Feliciano and Lovino about it. But other than that, I'm afraid you have no other option, Francis. We need a show this weekend and you're my only option." he said. "Is there something _else _you want to say to me?" Ludwig added.

"Look," Francis started. "I'm just being honest and caring about-"

"Do you have syllabi to write up this weekend or something? I know we're close to the end of the summer. If so, just tell me."

"Sort of," Francis said, biting his lip. "I have to meet someone this weekend and we're supposed to have fun."

"A date." Ludwig said in disbelief.

"Not a date, just hanging out with a potential friend." Francis corrected.

Ludwig glared at him. "A date." he repeated. "I'm sorry, but we need a show for the weekend. Unfortunately, you'll have to reschedule."

Francis slumped in his seat and sighed heavily. It was a bit unfair for all of this to happen _after _the fact Francis made plans with Arthur. Though they weren't best of friends and their meeting earlier that day had been incredibly awkward, Francis was looking forward to it.

"It's weird. You're usually happy to be in the spotlight." Ludwig continued. "This person must be important?"

Francis shrugged. "The show must go on." Francis said, standing up. "I'll just drag my date to the backstage." As Francis went for the door, he froze, and smiled. "Oh, actually, I think you and my friend might have a good conversation. Would you be okay with that?"

"We'll see." Ludwig answered. Always straight to the point; that's what Francis hated most about him. "I apologize that this is happened. I wish Roksana was more organized than this. Thank you for all that you do for our little bar."

"It's no problem. Just give me extra pay this time, alright?" Francis said, yawning. He made his way to the door. "I'm going home for the night. I suppose I'll see you and everyone tomorrow during rehearsal?"

Ludwig only replied with a "hmph," as the door swung shut behind Francis.

* * *

**Author's Note:**** I wasn't going to be adding many author's notes in this reupload, but I wanted to say a little bit of something in this chapter. Before one calls me out on Feli being a little out of character here, HEAR ME OUT. When writing this chapter, I came to the conclusion that when both Lovi and Feli were kids, everyone just believed Feli to be the cute, innocent, little angel boy. Because of this, he's learned how to get away wit g. He also figured out how to annoy the living shit out of his brother because we all know that's what brothers do. **

**That's really all I wanted to say for this one! I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter! **


	7. A Return to the Club

Arthur stood in front of his mirror rethinking his outfit for the evening. He had put on a plaid designed shirt on with a brown leather belt and black pants. He couldn't tell if the pieces he put together matched at all, or if the accentuated any of his features. But there was no one _really _who could help him with outfits. Sure, he could ask either Alfred or Matthew for their opinion, but that would lead to more questions.

But fuck it, right? Arthur was supposed to be challenging himself, so he went ahead and opened the door from his bedroom.

"Hey Matt, do you mind if I ask you a question?" Arthur called, still hiding behind the door.

Without any qualms, Matthew got up from the couch and came over to Arthur's bedroom. "Yeah, what's up?" Matthew replied.

"Don't laugh," Arthur prefaced. "But what are your thoughts on this outfit?" Arthur took a step back to let Matthew see the full outfit.

Matthew stared for a few seconds, tilted his head and tried not to laugh. "Well. It's an outfit." he answered. "What are you going for?"

"Uh, it's just an evening...out." Arthur said.

Matthew raised an amused eyebrow. "Like...to the club?" he questioned, intrigued. "Or a date?"

"It's just a night out." Arthur clarified, quickly. "Is the outfit bad?"

Matthew stepped into the room and closed the door shut with his back. "I can properly judge if I have a bit of context." he added.

Thankful that Matthew closed the door so Alfred couldn't be nosy, Arthur felt that he could be _somewhat _honest with his cousin. "Fine. I'm going to the club." Arthur mumbled. "Is this outfit club worthy?"

Matthew snorted. "Uh, when was the last time you went to a party?" he asked. "I think you need something that's a bit more subtle, but makes you look like, well, _you_." He walked over to Arthur's dresser and started looking through some of the clothes. "Are you hoping to pick up _someone_ tonight?"

Arthur shrugged. "I'm really going for the experience." he said. It was partially true; Arthur was curious to see if the magic he had experienced that first night at _**Atomica**_ would carry over. Especially if Francis' charm as Mirage Voilà continued to enchant him.

"Cool; which club are you going to?" Matthew continued, picking out a few different shirts.

"_**Atomica**_." Arthur answered, a bit too quickly. He stiffened and watched for Matthew's response.

"_**Atomica**_, eh? That's the one in the heart of downtown London, right?" Matthew asked, setting the shirts on the bed. "Alfred was looking up clubs the other day, 'cause he's always thirsty, and we glanced at it for a moment. It looks interesting and fun."

_So you know it's a gay bar._ Arthur thought. He gulped and sat down on the other side of the bed. "Yeah, it's fun." Arthur agreed, pulling up his socks. "I really like the shows they put on. They're high energy and...stunning."

Matthew handed Arthur a green dress shirt. "Mind if I join you?" he asked, smiling. Shocked, Arthur stared at him in question. Matthew go to a club? With his anxiety? "Sorry, Alfred just has been driving me crazy. And every now and then I have to let loose, you know?"

"Are you sure that...you want to go? I mean, you're so quiet." Arthur added. He took off the shirt he initially had on and buttoned on the green shirt Matthew had given him.

"Give me a couple of shots and I'm not quiet anymore." Matthew joked. "But it sounds like you already have plans."

Arthur sighed with relief as he glanced at his reflection in the mirror. "Perhaps another night, we can go to the pub and grab a drink or two." he suggested.

"Just don't tell Alfred that plan," Matthew sighed, but then laughed. "I think that color suits you better."

Arthur smiled. "Thanks, Matt." he said, standing up. "Please hold down the fort while I'm gone. Don't let Alfred wreck the place. _Please_."

Matthew gave a faux salute. "Got it."

Waiting outside of the club, Arthur stood as stiff as a board with his hands in his pockets. He kept his head low to make sure no one could make eye contact with him; he didn't want to risk the chance of anyone recognizing him. _I hate this_. He said to himself.

But at the same time, he loved every bit of it.

He liked the secrecy of the night, the amount of fun it was to dance and get lost in the music at the club. For a few hours, he could pretend he didn't hate himself, and pretend that everything was okay.

"Arthur?"

Arthur turned around to see Francis walking around from the corner of the building. He immediately smiled; he was happy to see Francis again, even though they barely knew each other. "Hi, Francis." Arthur greeted with a nod.

Francis returned a smile. "Glad to see you didn't chicken out on me," he said with a wink. "Why don't we cut the line and use the back entrance?"

"That's...not a euphemism for something else, is it?" Arthur replied.

"No, not at all," Francis answered. "You're not gay, remember?"

Arthur drew in a breath and sighed. "Yeah." he mumbled under his breath, following Francis around the building. They both entered the club in the backstage area, which as usual, was in chaos. Dancers arguing with each other about who was supposed to be covering what and a couple of stage managers speaking in their headsets frantically. All on top of muffled club music.

Francis led Arthur into the dressing room he was in the other night and closed the door. "I have to apologize," Francis said quickly. He was sorting through different pieces of clothing in a panic. "I tried to explain to Ludwig that you and I are supposed be enjoying the club tonight, but he wasn't having it."

"I don't think I follow." Arthur said, watching Francis peel his clothes off.

"I wasn't supposed to perform tonight, but there was a mix up with another queen. She won't be here until _next _week, which has happened before and I don't understand why-" Francis continued rambling.

"So…" Arthur started. "I guess I should go home, then?"

Francis froze and stared at Arthur. "No, no, please stay. My performance is actually short this time round. We can dance after." Francis explained. "I'm sorry this has happened, I didn't-"

"I'm excited to see you perform again." Arthur blurted, smiling uncontrollably. "I don't know what it is, but seeing you dance is...I don't know how to put it into words."

Francis smirked. "Great," he replied, stepping behind the room divider to change. "Just promise me you won't run away from me."

Arthur chuckled. "Promise." he confirmed, stepping to the door.

"Oh, wait!" Francis called. He peered around the divider. "You keep your head down because you don't want anyone to recognize you, yes?"

Arthur looked over his shoulder; how could Francis see right through him? Was he really that obvious?

When he hadn't said anything, Francis went back behind the divider to get dressed. "I can put a little bit of makeup on you if you'd like. Just for fun." he added. "Let me know now, though; I still have so much to do and I'm running behind."

With hesitation, Arthur replied: "Well, I know a bit about makeup. I did theatre for a semester at university." He paused and glanced at himself in the mirror. "So, if you're okay with it, I could use your stuff? I don't want to be in your way or anything."

"Sure!" Francis agreed. Arthur could hear the smile in Francis' voice, which in return, made him smile.

Arthur sat down in one of the two chairs sitting in front of the huge mirror and stared at the boxes and boxes of makeup Francis had brought with him. _Good Lord, where the hell do I even start? _He thought, reaching for the box closest to him. Inside, there were numerous sticks of foundations and concealers. Searching through, Arthur tried to find a concealer that would best be suitable for his skin. Soon, he was dotting small blemishes and scars on his face with the concealer wand.

"Oh please tell me you're being bolder than _that_." Francis said from behind him. Arthur could see him in the mirror, standing in pantyhoes that had hip pads in them and a stuffed bra. "It's a _nightclub_, Arthur. People wear odd clothes, they do obscure makeup, they go all out!"

"I said I did _some _makeup in theatre, not a lot." Arthur replied, turning around in his chair.

Francis sighed and sat down beside him. He grabbed the box with primers, foundation and concealers. "I'm encouraging you to be brave. Live a little. Stop being afraid of yourself." he clarified. "At least draw a dick on your face."

"I will _not _draw a dick on my face!" Arthur hissed.

Francis laughed as he began to apply his makeup. "Live in the moment." he said. "I know we've only just met, but I think you have problems loosening up, _non_?"

Arthur sat still for a moment, thinking. He supposed he had problems letting go and being himself; with a family as judgemental as his, he had to be a little uptight. "Right," Arthur sighed, reaching for another box. "I'll just put a lot of eyeliner on. How's that?"

Francis scoffed and rested his forehead on his wrist. "Do you think you're going to a punk rock concert?" he asked, laughing. "You're going to make me do your makeup, aren't you?"

"No, I can draw something." Arthur added, scrambling.

"_Non_, I've made up my mind," Francis said. He turned to Arthur. "Come here; let me show you how to be _bold_."

Arthur scooted his chair slightly closer to Francis as he began pulling out different eyeshadow palettes and brushes. The dressing room went silent as Francis concentrated on putting on a minimal amount of foundation and tiny designs on Arthur's face. Arthur at first looked elsewhere in the room to zone out, but he couldn't help but keep glancing at Francis' gorgeous blue eyes. He didn't want to admit it, but Arthur could easily find himself just gawking at Francis' beautiful features. Actually, as time passed on, Arthur began to notice the little things that made him smile just a bit. The few strands of hair that fell out of Francis' ponytail, Francis sticking his tongue out ever so slightly as he focused on being precise in his work.

_Stop looking._ Arthur said to himself.

"You're not going to put me all in drag, are you?" Arthur asked.

Francis leaned back slightly and stifled a laugh. "Oh no, we don't have enough time to even begin gluing down your eyebrows." he joked, grinning. "Maybe another time if you're interested."

"I just wanted to double check…" Arthur replied, his voice trailing off.

"Hold still; I need to fix something." Francis said. He gently lifted Arthur's face up by pushing on his chin and added what felt like a few dots on Arthur's face. "There, all done."

Arthur turned to the mirror to look. The makeup Francis had done was small, but effective. There was eyeliner all on his lower lash line, then taken down further onto the top of his cheek where it was smudged. Beside the smudged eyeliner, Francis had drawn several cartoon like tears in various sizes on Arthur's cheekbone. He had also put on a thin coat of black lipstick on Arthur's lips.

"Interesting choice." Arthur commented. As he stared at himself in the mirror, he couldn't help but admire Francis' work, as minor as it was.

Francis had already gone back to working on his makeup, pulling down his lower lash line to put in eyeliner. "Do you like it?" he asked, moving to work on the other eye. "I'm sorry I didn't have enough time to do more. If we had your hair stick up, I think it would really complete the look."

"I do." Arthur replied. "May I ask why you drew tears?"

Francis hesitated as he added powder to his face to set the foundation and began the rest of his eyeshadow look. "Whenever I do makeup looks, I try to have them reflect how I feel on the inside. So I'll pick specific colors if I know what they symbolize. Of course no one notices the little things, they just think the makeup looks flawless." Francis explained. "Since we're shooting for more of a club kid look, I thought the little design reflects you a bit."

"You think I'm a crying child?!" Arthur hissed, crossing his arms across his chest.

Francis chuckled. "No, I'm a psychology professor. And after studying psychology for years, I can tell easily when someone is struggling with something that needs to be expressed." he clarified. "Perhaps I'm wrong, though."

Arthur kept quiet as he looked down at his hands for a second. Again, was he really that easy to read? Arthur thought that he had mastered at masking his emotions and hiding them from the rest of the world and the rest of his family. No one really knew who the true Arthur was, except for Arthur. As long as he kept to himself, no one could hurt him nor really judge him.

"I suppose you're close," Arthur mused. "But I'm not struggling with anything."

"Okay." Francis said, setting his blending brush down. He had said it with a smirk, as if he already knew Arthur was lying.

_How dare you read my mind_. Arthur thought.

There was a knock on the door and a tall man immediately stepped in. Arthur recognized him from the other night. "Francis, I need you to be ready in 20." the tall man said. He didn't bother to look at Arthur as he turned back around to exit the room.

"Oh, I need a few more minutes than that." Francis pleaded. "I haven't even gotten my clothes and reveals on!"

The man groaned. "You're supposed to start at 9 o'clock, _on the dot_." he said.

"Oh, but what's a few more minutes?" Francis replied, waving a hand. "They're all drunk anyway; they're not going to know the difference, Ludwig!"

"But _I_ know and it bothers _me_." Ludwig added. He finally looked right at Arthur. "Who the hell is this?" he then asked.

"Oh, remember that person I told you I was supposed to be dancing with in the club right now? This is Arthur." Francis introduced.

"Why did you introduce me that-" Arthur began.

"It's good to meet you Arthur, but I'm sorry, we have a policy that there are to be no guests in the dressing rooms _before _the show." Ludwig interrupted. "A rule that Francis knows but always seems to ignore it."

Francis sighed and went back to applying his makeup. "It's not like we were fucking or anything. I do have some decency after all. Besides, Arthur here is straight as an arrow." Francis said, putting on a false lash.

Arthur glared at him. _Are you mocking me?_ He thought.

"I don't care and that's not the point! No guests in the dressing room before your show!" Ludwig said, raising his voice.

"I'll leave, I'll leave." Arthur said, standing up from his chair. "Good luck, Francis."

Francis looked up with the other false lash in his hand and smiled. "Thank you, Arthur. Enjoy the show!"

Arthur stepped out of the dressing room and Ludwig followed behind him, closing the door shut. Because he was much taller than him and obviously stronger than him, Arthur felt a bit intimidated by Ludwig as they both walked down the hallway. Arthur felt that if he had one misstep that Ludwig would beat him up for it and toss him out of the club.

"Ludwig!" someone called behind the two of them. Ludwig stopped and though he knew he should have made a run for it, Arthur stopped as well. A shorter man in a skimpy outfit approached them and took a hold of Ludwig's hand. "We're supposed to go on soon and you haven't wished me good luck yet." he whined. He was bouncing on his tippy toes.

Ludwig sighed. "I'm sorry, Feli, I'm a bit busy at the moment." he replied, turning away.

Feli pouted. "Aw, I just want my good luck kiss." he replied. He was still bouncing on the tips of his toes, which ultimately made the outfit catch Arthur's eye and made him realize that the outfit was mesh and _completely_ see through. Arthur gulped and immediately looked away.

"_Ja,_ you can have your good luck kiss." Ludwig leaned down and kissed Feli's cheek. "There, now please try not piss off your brother this time. No one can stand him when he's angry and whining."

"Got it!" Feli cheered, wandering away.

Arthur stood still next to Ludwig, waiting for him to move. Instead he glanced down at his watch and at the clipboard. "Are you just going to keep standing there as if I'm your babysitter?" Ludwig mumbled, side eyeing Arthur.

That was when Arthur silently took his cue to leave the backstage area and disappear in the crowd of the club.

When he stepped into the dressing room, he was still Francis Bonnefoy. But as he stepped out and stood right behind the curtain, waiting for Gilbert to announce her name to the club, he became Mirage Voilà.

Mirage stood with her hands on her hips and tilted her head up with her eyes close, drawing in a deep breath.

"So wait, we go to the left at the chorus, right?" Feliciano asked, whispering.

"No, stupid. We go to the right!" Lovino hissed back. "Don't screw it up!"

"I could've sworn we went to the left…" Feliciano muttered, his voice trailing off.

Mirage Voilà ignored the two brothers, knowing that if they messed up, she would keep going because it was _her _show. They weren't necessary for the gig nor the show; Mirage could hold her own. Feliciano and Lovino were only there to shake their asses and make the thirsty attendees cream their pants.

"If you mess this up for the both of us, _again_, I will make sure you regret it!" Lovino added.

"Shh! I need to concentrate." Mirage hushed. She let her arms fall to her side. "You remember your cue, right?"

"Yes." Lovino and Feliciano answered simultaneously.

"Good. See you boys then." Mirage concluded. She touched her wig to make sure it was on well and would not budge during the performance.

"Alllllllllriiiiiiiight, you know what time it is! It's….9:17? Huh, we're running late." Gilbert announced. "Annyyyyyyway, she's here two weeks in a row! You know who it is! Give! It! UUUUuuuuUUUUUP! For MiiirrrrAAAAAAgggee! Voilààààààà!"

Tonight, Gilbert didn't even wait for the cheers from the crowd to die down when he started the music. The song didn't have an intro that lasted for even a second, so Mirage had to immediately open the curtain and begin her show. She wrapped the ends of both of the curtains to wrap around herself as she lip synced the statement of the chorus. It wasn't until the singer moved to go to the classic pop "ooooh" melody when Mirage slid the curtains off of her body, revealing her dress that was covered in glitter and sequins. It was one of Mirage's prized possessions, as it was one of the first dresses Francis had ever sewn for her.

As the song repeated the chorus line again, Mirage waited for the bass to drop before she slowly began to walk down the stage, making sure the lights on stage caught every shimmer and sparkle of her dress. The beat began to pick up in the song, and Mirage added more dancing as she started to take tips from the crowd. Mirage scanned the crowd to see if she could find Arthur amongst it; he was nowhere to be found for the time being.

The first song did not have its proper ending as Gilbert blended the next song with the previous. The next song was a bit more sexy and promiscuous as lyrics went, giving Mirage permission to reveal her next outfit and flirt with random people out in the audience. Of course, the audience was eating up the performance, handing out tips left and right. By the end of the song, Mirage did the duck walk from the back of the stage to the front.

In the corner of her eye, Mirage saw someone shoving a tenner close to her. She looked over to see Arthur standing there, a martini glass in his other hand, cheeks flushed from drinking the alcohol and with a wide smile on his face. Mirage chuckled, got down on her knees and leaned down to kiss Arthur on the cheek as she took the money from his hand. Again, as she looked at him, she knew he was enjoying himself.

When the third song came on, Mirage stood up and turned her back to the audience, walking to the back of the stage. Both Feliciano and Lovino stepped out and stood in their positions. With her back still to the audience, Lovino and Feliciano rested their arms on Mirage's shoulders as they posed for a few more seconds until the vocals kicked in. Mirage looked over her shoulder, mouthing the words while both of the Italians stepped away from her. Slowly but surely, she turned to fully face the audience again, watching them bounce collectively to the beat of the music. Mirage could see Arthur had made his way around to the left of the stage, bobbing up and down with the music as well.

By the time the chorus repeated a second time, the music acted as if there was a glitch (which was planned, of course), and Mirage shook around along with it and eventually fell into a death drop. The crowd went insane, their roars almost louder than the music itself. Mirage grinned and sat up, striking another pose. She wrapped her arms around her knees and rested her head over them, letting her hair fall over to one side. For the rest of the song, Mirage had done so many splits and more death drops that she had completely forgotten what Feliciano and Lovino were supposed to be doing. But it didn't matter really, because the final song had ended and crowd was hooting and hollering.

"Mirage Voilà everyone!" Gilbert hollered into the microphone.

Mirage crossed her legs and bowed for the audience before exiting the stage. Both Feliciano and Lovino held the curtains open for her and followed her as she walked past.

"I can't believe you fell off of the stage, you idiot!" Lovino shouted immediately.

"But that one person caught me! And I got to crowd surf a little bit! It was fun!" Feliciano replied, laughing at himself. "We should dive off of the stage more often!"

Mirage ignored the brothers' quarrel and slammed the door closed to her dressing room. _Well, I had fun_. She thought, grabbing her container of makeup wipes. '_Til next time, Francis_.

Undressing as quickly as one possibly could, Francis did his best to put the clothes, makeup and wigs away properly before he could go back out in the club and have a good time with Arthur. As he pulled his pants on, there was a knock and in came Ludwig once again.

"You have a guest. _Again_." he groaned, stepping aside to let Arthur in. "We can't keep letting him in here like this, Francis."

"Don't talk about me like I'm an unwanted rat!" Arthur replied.

"Ugh." Ludwig sighed, turning to leave the room.

When the door clicked shut, Francis grabbed his shirt and buttoned it on. "Something tells me you need to stop getting drunk during my shows." he mused.

"I'm not drunk this time. I only had," Arthur paused to look at his hand and count his fingers. "Three martinis." he concluded, holding up three fingers.

"One too many, clearly. You're a lightweight." Francis sighed. He approached Arthur and put an arm around him. "What are we to do with you?"

Arthur leaned against Francis and laughed. "We're gonna have fun. _Obvi_." he answered, putting on his best drunken, American accent. Francis laughed as well; it was clear Arthur's cousins were rubbing off on him. When Arthur stopped laughing, he stared at Francis and smirked. "Kiss me."

Stunned, Francis took a step back and shook his head. Everything about the situation _reeked _of a bad idea. "Arthur, you're not yourself. Let's just go out with the rest of everyone and have a good time." he said, trying to guide Arthur out of the dressing room.

Arthur frowned and at first refused to walk along with Francis. He still held onto the Frenchman, and was starting to fall over as Francis had stepped closer to the door. "I just want to know what it feels like." Arthur added, trying to stand up properly. "It doesn't have to mean anything."

"Come on, let's just go." Francis urged, trying to dissuade Arthur. This _probably _wasn't a good idea.

"Just one kiss." Arthur pleaded. He then snorted. "I'm not asking to snog."

Francis inhaled and silently gave in. If it was just one kiss, what could be the harm in doing so? _You know _exactly _what the harm could be._ Francis scolded himself as he cradled Arthur's jaw and leaned in for a quick kiss. That's all it was. A small, quick peck on the lips.

But as Francis pulled away and he and Arthur stared at each other in silence for a moment, he knew he was stupid to have given in on the mistake. Before Francis could open his mouth to encourage Arthur to follow him back out to the club, Francis found himself being pinned to the door.

_You're a fucking idiot_. Francis said to himself, as he and Arthur continued to make out against the dressing room door.

* * *

**Author's Note:**** Hi again, it's me! I wanted to let you know the songs I had imagined for Mirage's performance. **

**This is What you Came For - Calvin Harris**

**Talking Body - Tove Lo**

**H.E.R. - VEVA**

**You can, of course, imagine any songs you'd like when reading this chapter, but I thought it might be helpful to know my thought process behind this! **


	8. Butterflies

It was 1:00 in the afternoon and Arthur had not emerged from his room, which was highly unusual. Thankfully, the Book Nook was closed on Sundays, so Matthew wasn't concerned about opening the store all by himself (because he knew Alfred wouldn't do it). But what concerned him was that Arthur had a hangover or was sick. So Matthew took it upon himself to make some tea and a sandwich for Arthur in hopes of making him feel better.

"Yo, thanks for the sandwich." Alfred said, hoping to snatch the cucumber sandwich Matthew had made.

Matthew moved the plate away from Alfred's reach. "It's not for you," he replied. "It's for Arthur. He's still not up yet."

"Pfft," Alfred groaned. "That's a _good _thing, bruh. It's kinda nice not having him yelling at us for God knows what. I can't _wait _to get back home." He attempted to steal the sandwich again, but this time Matthew smacked him in the face.

"He went out last night. He probably has a hangover."

"Yeah, and probably _doesn't _want to be disturbed! _Duh_." Alfred made a third attempt to take the sandwich. Matthew had taken the plate and the cup of tea from the counter and made his way to Arthur's bedroom door. "Dude, he's gonna punch you in the face." Alfred added, following his twin around.

"I'm just trying to be nice. Could you open the door for me, please?" Matthew requested, rolling his eyes.

Alfred shrugged but kindly opened the door and stepped into Arthur's room. Sure enough, Arthur had the covers pulled over his head and was still asleep. Tip-toeing into the room, Matthew set the tea and the sandwich on the bedside table. As he turned around, he saw Alfred quietly running into the room and towards the bed with an air horn in his hand. Shaking his head, Matthew didn't try to stop his brother because he knew Alfred _wouldn't_ stop. The older twin simply got out of dodge.

Alfred, who hadn't noticed that Matthew had taken several steps back, held the air horn fairly close to Arthur's ear, stifled a snicker and pressed the button on top of the device. "WAKE UP, FUCKER!" Alfred shouted as the air horn blared.

As predicted, Matthew watched as Arthur practically jumped out of his bed and punched Alfred square in the jaw, screaming in retaliation. The air horn flew out of Alfred's hand, rolling across the floor and relieving everyone's ear from it's obnoxious ringing. Shocked from the punch, Alfred fell onto the floor and groaned, writhing around.

"Why the _fuck_ would you do that, _arsehat_!" Arthur screamed. He flinched at his own voice and covered his right eye in slight pain.

"What the fuck is a butt hat?" Alfred replied, still writhing around in pain. "You weren't up so I thought I'd wake you up."

Arthur crawled back into his bed and pulled the blanket over top of his head. "How considerate of you, imbecile." he grumbled.

"I'm sorry, Arthur. I wanted to wake you up peacefully by giving you some tea and a sandwich, but Alfred….is an idiot and had other plans." Matthew said, softly.

Arthur peeked out from under his blanket to see the tea and sandwich on the bedside table. "Oh," he mumbled. "Thank you, Matthew. You didn't have to do that."

Matthew shrugged and went for the door. "I was a little concerned, so I wanted to do something small. I hope it helps? With the hangover, at least." he replied.

"Yeah, where were you last night? I wanted to play Cards Against Humanity but I can't play that with only two people!" Alfred added. He was still laying on the floor, holding onto his jaw. Matthew took note that his brother _probably _needed a pack of ice to reduce any swelling.

"Out," Arthur answered, slinking his face back under the blanket. "Now may I have some peace, please?"

"Sure thing," Matthew said. "You coming, Alfred?"

"My face hurts." Alfred whined as he stood up and pushed past his brother to the living room.

"Well, you kinda deserved it," Matthew muttered, closing the door behind him. "What even made you think that would have been funny in the first place?" he added, opening the freezer to grab an ice pack. He tossed the pack to his brother and sat down beside him.

"Since when does Arthur like going out?" Alfred asked, putting the ice pack on his face. "He's always been the stingy, prudish cousin. Alistair is the crazy, fun one."

"We don't see _everything_, Al. I mean, how could we possibly know anything about Arthur when we live across the ocean." Matthew said. "There's probably a lot that we don't know. Arthur doesn't have to tell us everything."

"But if he was going to a party, I would've like to go!" Alfred complained. "I'm the _life _of every party."

Matthew smirked; knowing that Arthur went to _**Atomica**_, he knew that club wasn't really Alfred's cup of tea. "He needs space," Matthew added, reaching for the TV remote. "Everyone's entitled to have a private life."

"Wait, where did he go? A club? Man, I want to go to a club so bad." Alfred continued to whine. "Next time, I say we follow him."

"Or we could just, you know, leave him alone." Matthew sighed. "You gotta learn how to leave people alone. Especially since we're around Arthur every day at The Book Nook; we can do separate things without each other. So, let Arthur do his thing and we'll do our own thing."

Alfred slouched further into the couch and huffed as a response. Matthew shook his head and propped his feet up on the coffee table. Oh how _exhausting _Alfred could be.

The images of last night kept running through his mind.

Under the covers, Arthur curled up against one of his extra pillows and stuffed his face in it. The memory of watching Mirage dance upon the stage, her performance spreading energy across the whole club, had made him excited that night. _It was the drink I had_. Arthur thought. _The liquor made me go to his dressing room._

But Arthur knew it wasn't the alcohol to blame in his actions. It was Arthur himself who had consciously made the decision when he stepped into _**Atomica**_. He had a "crush" of sorts on Francis Bonnefoy and he knew it well.

Three martinis hadn't been enough to make Arthur completely drunk. It didn't stop Arthur's conscious decision as he went back to Francis' dressing room and asked for a kiss. He _wanted _that kiss. And after he got it, he wanted _more_. So they continued to makeout in the dressing room, taking turns pinning each other against the wall. Arthur could still feel the pressure of Francis' lips against his, even if it was several hours ago.

Soon things led to another, and Arthur made a comment under his breath that he wanted Francis to take his clothes off. Francis hesitated, asking Arthur 3 times if he was _sure _he wanted to do this. Arthur confirmed _yes _every time. And so Francis did, pulling Arthur's pants and briefs down around his ankles, giving him a blowjob.

It truly did not take long for Arthur to finish, especially since he had been so out of practice. His knees buckled as he climaxed and he had to hold onto the counter behind him to support himself from falling. Seconds passed as Arthur collected himself, clumsily pulling his underwear and pants back up. He felt slightly embarrassed at first and was ready to make a run for the club's exit. But Francis gave him another kiss, encouraging him to stay for fun and led him back out to the dancefloor. There, the two enjoyed the rest of their night dancing, drinking, and grinding up against other people in the large dance mob.

It was the first time Arthur was honest to _himself_ about his sexuality. And God, it felt liberating.

Arthur sat up in his bed and reached for the cup of tea Matthew had made for him. It had cooled down to the perfect drinking temperature. He took a couple of sips, rested his head against the headboard and hummed to himself. The hangover was beginning to subside, and Arthur was starting to feel like himself again. He set the tea aside and stepped out of bed with the blanket still wrapped around him.

The bedroom door creaked open as Arthur wandered out of his room, hearing the TV on some sort of Netflix original. Both Matthew and Alfred sat on the couch, slouched in their sweatpants and hoodies, and both were sharing a giant bag of potato chips that had been placed atop a pillow in between them.

"Oh, looks like the dead can walk again after all." Alfred mocked, laughing.

"_Shut it_." Arthur hissed, shuffling towards them. "Have either of you seen my phone?"

"Nah," Alfred said. He reached into his pocket. "Want me to call it?"

"Wait, is it this right here?" Matt asked, picking up a cellphone off of the coffee table.

Arthur sighed with relief. "Yes, that's it," he confirmed, reaching for it. "What time is it, by the way?"

"2:00, I think," Matthew replied, scooting to the end of the couch. "Are you feeling okay? Do you need anything?"

"No, no, I'm fine. I think I'll finish my tea and sandwich you made for me." Arthur muttered, moseying back to his room. Taking his phone into his room, he checked for any messages. Naturally, there was one message from Francis.

_Had fun last night. We should have lunch sometime! 3_

A smile came across Arthur's lips as he sat down on his bed. He reread the short message over and over again, thinking of a good response. God, he wanted to see Francis again, as silly as it was. They barely knew each other; the only connection they had was they both got swept up in the moment and made a stupid decision. Plus, to top it all off, Arthur still wasn't "out of the closet," per se. He'd never said the words aloud before, at least not to himself, nor to his friends or family. It was all so confusing.

But Arthur still wanted to see Francis again.

_I had fun too. Definitely; does Thursday work for you?_

Arthur pressed the send button all too quick before he could take a second to reread the message. He was too excited at the thought of meeting up with Francis again.

"I feel like foolish teenager." Arthur grumbled to himself, tossing his phone across his bed. He smiled and laughed at himself. "A foolish teenager…"

Francis lied in the center of his bed, staring at his phone's notification. Arthur finally replied to the message Francis had sent last night after only minutes from when they departed. _You made an idiotic choice last night, Francis._ He thought to himself, unlocking his phone with his password. _You're going to fall in love with him if you're not careful._

He read the short message and smiled; good, Arthur had agreed to meet for lunch.

Perhaps last night wasn't as idiotic as Francis initially thought.

Francis set his phone aside and threw the blankets off of him to get up to go about the rest of his day. It seemed that Arthur was beginning to feel more comfortable in his skin. Well, at least when he had alcohol in his system. If the two could meet more often when alcohol wasn't involved, it would be great.

But it was at least a start.

He went ahead and climbed into the shower after brushing his teeth. As he began washing his hair, he still found himself thinking about Arthur, despite wishing to clear his head. Francis knew that the _true _Arthur wanted to come out; he saw the twinkle in his eyes when Francis was putting makeup on Arthur's face. He saw it in the moments they danced together on the dancefloor, with their drinks accidentally spilling on each other as they jumped around and grinded against each other.

The real Arthur was there that night, but when he left the club, he quickly disappeared.

Francis was surprised that Arthur had been so bold all of a sudden. When he first said he wanted Francis to take his clothes off, Francis was hesitant. _Of course_ he had no qualms with it, normally, but the situation with Arthur was different. Francis was going to ignore the request altogether, but Arthur had requested it two more times. That was when Francis went ahead and thoroughly pleasured him.

But what Francis wanted now was to get to know Arthur more. He wanted to know Arthur's background, his family, his personality; he wanted to know close to _everything _about Arthur so that he could help him.

Or perhaps _be _with him. Who knew?

Francis had some of the pieces, but it wasn't enough to understand the puzzle at hand.

Francis grabbed a towel and once he was dry, he wandered into his room to get dressed. _But where should we have lunch_? He asked himself. Now with clothes on, Francis reached for his phone and stared at the message Arthur had sent. As he walked out to the living room, Francis replied:

_Thursday is perfect. What kind of food do you like?_

Francis put his phone aside on the living room table and turned his attention to the assignments he had to grade. He groaned lightly as he turned on his laptop and ran his hand through his hair. After half an hour passed, Francis' phone lit up with a text message. Excited that Arthur might have replied already, Francis found himself disappointed to find that it was Feliciano messaging him instead.

_Uuhhhhh….quick question about Roksana Pierogi...she and Toris can't seem to book a hotel in London. Would you be willing to let them stay at your place for a night or two? They'll be staying our place a couple of nights as well. Hope you can help out! Please give me or Luddy a call! _

_I'll give them a call later._ Francis thought to himself, scanning through the first essay he had to grade. Within the first few lines of the essay, Francis already knew that the student hadn't read the articles and books Francis had assigned. He knew he shouldn't have been so surprised and annoyed, because he used to bullshit assignments too when he went through school. But Francis had hoped students would be different because _he _was teaching, and he was a _cool _professor after all.

"I don't have the strength for this." Francis grumbled. He closed the file and sighed; he could use a nap, even if he had woken up not too.

Francis jumped at the sound of his phone notifying him there was another message. This time, it was from Arthur:

_Sorry I took a bit to reply. A moth flew into the apartment and of course, I had to be the one to deal with it. Even though I still have a bit of a hangover. My cousins both freaked out and started screaming. It was utterly ridiculous. _

_I don't know why I'm telling you this. Sorry._

_Anyways, I could go for some Italian food, if that's alright with you? There's a nice restaurant on the next block over from the Nook. Let me know what you think. . . _

Francis couldn't help but laugh at the idea of Arthur's cousins, whom he assumed were the same ones who were working at the Book Nook with Arthur, screaming and yelling because a simple, harmless moth had made its way into the room. Francis wouldn't have liked it either that a bug was invading his space. But, he was thankful that Arthur had shared the moment with him; it proved that he was getting more comfortable.

And so Francis eagerly wrote his reply:

_I don't blame them; moths are scary! Italian sounds delicious. A restaurant around the Book Nook, is that Bellisima? I actually think I have a few friends who works there. See you Thursday! ;) Can't wait! 3 _

Francis put the lunch date down in his calendar and grinned to himself. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest and his stomach fluttering. It took a hot second, but Francis recognized the feeling; it was a feeling he hadn't felt in years.


	9. Lunch Date

Arthur was never one to be fashionably late. Even when he tried to be late, Arthur still managed to overestimate how long it would take him to arrive to his destination. Today was like no other; Arthur thought he walked slower than he typically did, but still arrived to Bellisima nearly fifteen minutes before he and Francis had agreed to meet. Arthur leaned against the concrete wall of the building, constantly fighting the urge to check his phone for the time every two minutes.

It wasn't until ten minutes after 1:00 when Francis parked his car across the street and came running over to the restaurant. "I'm so sorry," he apologized. "No matter how hard I try, I can never be on time. You weren't waiting long, were you?"

"No, not at all," Arthur fibbed, shaking his head. "I only got here a few minutes ago."

"Good, good." Francis sighed with relief. "Let's go in, shall we?"

The two men made their way to the entrance, with Francis at first ready to put his arm around Arthur, but immediately pulled away. Arthur couldn't help but notice; on the one hand, he was thankful that Francis hadn't put his arm around him, but at the same time Arthur wished he had. Francis did, however, open the door first and hold it open. He's just being polite, Arthur thought to himself as he stepped into the restaurant. Why are you getting so excited over something so simple? Idiot.

There was a sign by the hostess' podium that read "Please take your own seat; a waiter will be with you shortly." At first, Arthur and Francis had started to walk in two different directions. Arthur wanted to take the booth that was in the far back corner of the restaurant while Francis wanted to take one of the tables by the window. They had a friendly argument before deciding to take one of the tables in the center of the restaurant.

As they settled in their seats, a waiter came over with two menus and placed a large pitcher of cool water in the middle of the table. "Benvenuto a Bellisima, my name is Lovino and I'll be serving you today," the waiter said in a low voice. "Can I get you two any drinks besides water?"

"Hi Lovino," Francis greeted with a smile. He leaned his head to the side a bit so that Lovino could see him.

Lovino frowned. "You've got to be kidding me. What do you want, Franny?"

"Lunch, obviously," Francis replied, picking up a menu. "And don't be so mean today; I'm with a friend."

Lovino turned to Arthur with a scowl. "You were that guy that was staring at me a couple of weeks ago!" he hissed.

"Er, sorry about that. I had a couple of-" Arthur began to defend himself.

"So Lovino, how are things with Toni?" Francis interrupted. His face was mostly covered up by the menu, but Arthur could tell from the tone of his voice he was smirking.

"You just had to come at a time where I'm the only waiter here." Lovino groaned. "I'll give you two a couple of minutes to look at the menu." He began to walk away. "Wave me over if you need something."

As Lovino walked over to the swinging doors that led into the kitchen, Arthur heard Francis laughing quietly. "I didn't know you two knew each other," he said, setting the menu down briefly. "Should I be jealous?"

"No, no, we don't know each other at all. He was arguing with another bloke the same night where I uh...ran out of your dressing room," Arthur explained, opening the menu to the list of appetizers. "He seems to be in a sour mood."

Francis sighed. "He's always in a sour mood. Especially if he and Antonio have a minor argument."

Antonio? The bartender? Arthur thought.

"Don't pay attention to him and he usually calms down," Francis added. He looked around the restaurant but Lovino was nowhere to be found. "Dammit, I wanted to know the specials."

"So, let me see if I can understand this right," Arthur began. "Lovino is one of the dancers at Atomica, yes? Who was that other person?"

"His brother, Feliciano," Francis explained, turning a page in the menu. "They both used to work here as servers and cooks while they attended dance school; this is their grandfather's restaurant. I think Feli serves here on occasion, but it's very rare."

"Wh-Wha-" Arthur stammered.

"Feliciano technically left when he and Ludwig got married because those two started a business together. Which obviously was Atomica. They also foster puppies which is, you know, the perfect combination of domestic bliss and adorableness."

"I-I don't….I don't follow? You mean to tell me that sweet little guy is married to that...tall, scary looking guy?"

"Yes, Feliciano is married to Ludwig. And trust me, Feliciano is not as sweet as he seems. Why?"

Arthur looked down at his menu, pretending to be occupied. Is that what Feliciano had meant when he said he wasn't into the 'frilly' stuff? Arthur thought.

"They met in this restaurant, you know," Francis continued. Arthur looked up, waiting for Francis to go on. "Ludwig was here for some sort of meeting and while he was waiting for the other person to show up, Feliciano tripped and spilled water all over Ludwig. We later found out that Feliciano tripped on purpose in attempt to get Ludwig's white dress shirt wet so he could see Ludwig's muscles. Ridiculous, right?"

"So how did they end up marrying?" Arthur asked. Somehow, he was suddenly invested in this story.

"Well, Ludwig wasn't really out yet at that time, so he was trying to avoid Feli at all costs. But eventually, he became a regular customer here and soon got a hold of Feliciano's number. They dated in 'secret' for a while, even though it wasn't much of a secret because Feli can't keep anything to himself. He pretty much told me every detail that happened between him and Ludwig. When Ludwig finally outed himself, he proposed to Feli not too long after. And then it was basically happily ever after for them." Francis sighed. "I honestly have no idea how their love ended up exactly like a romantic comedy."

"Yeah," Arthur agreed, reaching for the water pitcher. "Quite unfair, really." It was unfair that people could figure out their life so easily, and that everything could fall into place for them. Arthur dreamed of having a nice, quiet domestic life when he was a kid, and to a certain extent, he still yearned for it.

But now? He wasn't so sure he'd ever obtain it.

Arthur and Francis sat in silence for several minutes as they continued to browse through the menu. There were several times where Arthur wanted to ask Francis a question or mention a minor typo in the menu that made him laugh, but he didn't want to make the situation awkward. The air was already thick from Arthur's awkward self, and if Arthur wanted to even stand a chance with Francis, he didn't want to make it worse.

"Are you ready to order?"

Arthur looked up to see Lovino standing by the table with a notepad in hand. Lovino rolled his eyes and let his arms fall to his side. "I don't have all day! Are you ready to order or not?" he snapped.

"Remember when I said don't be so mean, Lovi?" Francis replied.

"Don't call me Lovi."

"Then don't call me Franny." Francis closed the menu and handed it to Lovino. "I'll have the caprese salad to start and then could I have the cacio e pepe?"

Lovino rolled his eyes and forced a smile as he quickly scribbled down his notes. "And for you, sir?" he asked, glancing over at Arthur.

"Oh, um, how about the...carbonara?"

Lovino nodded. "Alright, so I have one caprese salad, an order of cacio e pepe and an order of spaghetti alla carbonara. Anything else?"

Both Arthur and Francis shook their heads.

"Good. One check or two?"

"Two," Arthur and Francis said, simultaneously.

Lovino nodded and walked away without another word. Arthur leaned back in his chair, sighed and closed his eyes for a moment. He was starting to question why he wanted to meet with Francis again. It wasn't like they were the best of friends; they had only just met a couple of weeks ago. There's a connection, Arthur thought. He seems to understand me, even when I'm not speaking.

"How are your cousins?" Francis asked.

Arthur opened his eyes, slightly startled from Francis abruptly asking him a question. "They're well, I think," Arthur answered. "I think they're finally adjusting to the culture here."

"Where are they from?" Francis continued, unfolding his napkin and laying it on his lap.

"The United States. The one who really needs to adjust is Alfred. He's gotten better….but ugh...he's still annoying as hell."

"Alfred is the...Lay Mirabluh one?" Francis laughed.

Arthur laughed as well. "Yes. He and his twin Matthew are finishing up college. I don't understand how Alfred is still so...dense."

Francis shrugged. "Sometimes it's people's personalities. I'm sure he's bright in whatever he's majoring in."

"Physics and engineering, I think. From what I hear from his mother, he's very smart in that field. I heard something that he wants to help build things for NASA or something," Arthur went on, rubbing his eye. "Matt is a French major I believe, and he's minoring in something else...I forget. It might be sociology. Maybe it's the other way round? I dunno..."

Francis smiled. "French and sociology. It'll be interesting to see where he goes with that," he said, pouring himself a glass of water.

They continued to talk over various topics; Arthur described his cousins even further, explaining how despite them being identical, they were vastly different. The two of them shared some details about their college days and all of the parties that they attended when they should have been studying a little bit harder instead. Soon, Lovino came around with the caprese salad for Francis, assuring them that their meals would be on the way soon. Francis was kind enough to offer some of his salad to Arthur, but Arthur politely declined.

"Oh, by the way," Francis began. He set his fork on the empty plate. "Did you like the makeup I put on you the other night?"

Arthur grinned. "The clown tears?" he joked. "I did like it, actually. I dunno if anyone noticed in the club though."

"It's not about anyone noticing, it's about if you liked it." He paused, chewing for a bit. "Would you try it on yourself again?"

Arthur hesitated, biting his lip. "I actually thought about buying some makeup to experiment with because I'd like to join you at Atomica again."

Francis raised an eyebrow. "But…?"

"Well, I don't want anyone to see me buying it. Nor my cousins to find out. I would never live it down if Al figured it all out." Arthur added. He knew Matthew wouldn't care, because Matthew was nonchalant about everything. But Alfred?

"Your cousins are younger, yes? Younger kids are pretty open minded. I don't think they'll care."

"You don't understand Alfred, though. He has a big mouth, and if he finds something funny, he has to show everyone at least ten times," Arthur argued. "If it was just Matthew, maybe I wouldn't care as much. Besides, I think he already knows."

"So, no one in your family really knows about your sexual orientation?"

Arthur shook his head.

"How come?"

Arthur opened his mouth to answer, but was interrupted by Lovino who brought out the main course dishes.

"Alright, careful, the plates are hot," Lovino warned, placing the first plate in front of Arthur. When he placed Francis' dish down, he clapped his hands together and actually smiled. "Is there anything else I can get for you?"

"No, I think we're good," Arthur answered.

"Great. Buon appetito!"

Huh. Something's lifted his spirits, Arthur thought, watching Lovino hurry back into the kitchen. Perhaps things were patched up between he and Antonio?

Francis and Arthur began to eat a bit of their meals in silence. Arthur knew that he hadn't answered Francis' question about his family, but it was topic he tended to avoid. Besides, their date or meeting or whatever this was seemed to be going well; Arthur didn't want to screw it up by talking about his fucked up family.

"You never answered my question." Francis wiped his mouth with his napkin. "Is your family really conservative?"

"N-no." Arthur hesitated. "We're just...odd. Messed up. A jumbled mess."

"Isn't every family?"

"They're nothing like mine," Arthur muttered, looking away.

"Would it make you feel better if I told you about mine?"

Arthur shrugged; he doubted it.

Francis took another bite of his meal, wiped his mouth and took a sip of water. "I come from a very messy household," he started. "My parents knew each other from college; they partied together, got drunk together, did drugs together. Nothing that's too out of the ordinary, technically. Who doesn't experiment with drugs a little?"

Francis leaned back and smiled ever so slightly. "My mother got pregnant with me, and my father thought that the best thing for him to do was to marry her. That's probably the only redeemable fact about him; him deciding he should marry my mother when she was pregnant." He paused. "They got married and months later, I was born. My father got sober so he could get a decent paying job while my mother took care of me. Money was always sparse, so when I was older, my mother also took on two jobs. They tried to take care of me, at first." Francis paused again to take a bite of his meal and savor the flavor.

"Things basically fell apart by my fifth birthday. To make a long story short, my mother got ill. Her immune system got so bad, a bout of pneumonia killed her. And so I was left alone with my father. Life hadn't been so bad when my mother was around. It wasn't perfect, but she protected me. She loved me. She cared for me. She was the best mother she could possibly be.

"My father, on the other hand, was a terror. Yes, he had gotten clean earlier in my life, but after my mother died, his hand went back for the bottle. It didn't matter what I did or how well I behaved, he would beat me and mock me for being too feminine. He would constantly tell me how much he hated me, because it was my fault that my mother died." Francis reached for his glass and took a deep breath. Arthur knew talking about his family was tough, but Francis really didn't have to tell him everything.

"I grew up being a punching bag. I always told my friends and my teachers that I was clumsy and fell a lot, hoping that they would stop asking questions about my bruises," Francis paused to take a sip of water. "As a kid, when your mother is missing, you scavenge for a nurturing figure in your life. My imagination began to go wild, just to create a world that was away from my real life. That's where Mirage Voilà came in." Francis smiled. "Through her I learned how powerful makeup and creativity can be. When I graduated from school, I left France for good, and went to university in New York. There I got my Bachelor's and Master's degrees, and soon moved over here to complete a PhD. And well, the rest is history."

Arthur sat still in his seat, stunned into silence. He genuinely didn't know what to say after Francis had finished his story. He picked at his meal a bit, and took a bite. "I'm sorry you had such a rough childhood," Arthur said, finally. "No one deserves such violence."

"I agree, but at the same time, I wouldn't be the person I am if I hadn't experienced it," Francis replied, picking at his food as well. His eyes grew distant. "I'm sorry, I put a damper on our fun outing."

"Don't be," Arthur said, giving a soft smile. "It's good that we're honest with each other. I suppose I should tell yo-"

"Here's two checks," Lovino blurted, handing Francis and Arthur their respective receipts. "Whenever you're ready, just let me know."

As Lovino walked away, Francis reached over and took Arthur's check. "I thought we were doing separate checks!"

"We were, but I changed my mind," Francis replied, pulling out his wallet. He glanced up to see that Arthur was displeased. "I talked your ear off today; let this be my treat."

"At least let me pay half." Arthur knew that the restaurant wasn't cheap.

Francis shook his head. "My treat. Please."

Arthur relented as Francis pulled out several banknotes to pay for both of their meals. Francis waved Lovino over, who happily took the money, asked if there was a need for change and left when Francis said no. The two men walked out of the restaurant in silence; Arthur walked across the street to Francis' car to say goodbye.

"Again, I'm sorry I talked about my life so much," Francis apologized, unlocking his car.

"I didn't mind. I'm sorry I didn't want to talk about mine. Maybe-"

Francis put a hand on Arthur's shoulder and smiled. "You can tell me when you're ready," he said delicately. "I won't push you to talk about such things." Francis opened the door to his car and started to get in.

"U-uh, can we do this again sometime?" Arthur asked quickly.

Francis stepped back out of his car. "Hm?"

"When can I see you again?"

"Whenever you want," Francis answered with a grin. With one hand, Francis cradled Arthur's jaw and softly kissed his cheek. "Call me whenever you're free."

After that, Francis climbed back into his car and closed the door. Smiling like a buffoon, Arthur waved goodbye as Francis pulled away from the parallel parking. He shook his head as he stuffed his hands back in his pockets, turned away and muttered to himself:

"You just have to be so suave, don't you?"


	10. The Arrival of the Queen of Pierogi

"Are you _positive _they're going to be here today, Feli?" Ludwig asked, following his partner across the empty dance floor.

"I called them like, twenty times and they've confirmed that they should be getting here around 8:00!" Feliciano answered as he rushed to the door.

"But it's nearly 9:00!"

"I don't know, I'm sure they'll be here soon!" Feliciano said.

"How hard is it to be on time?!" Ludwig argued.

Francis had been sitting on the edge of the stage for an hour and a half, watching Ludwig and Feliciano walk back and forth in hopes that Roksana Pierogi and her manager would arrive. They had been arguing a little bit, but it was mainly Ludwig being concerned that Roksana wouldn't keep her word with Feliciano constantly assuring him. This was the most stressed out he had seen the married couple. Francis had to admit it was mildly amusing.

"How much do you wanna bet that they won't show?" Gilbert asked, sitting down beside Francis. He peeled a banana he had "borrowed" from Antonio's hidden snack bowl.

Francis leaned his elbow on his knee. "Fifty?"

Gilbert chuckled and took a bite of the banana. "I'd bet my whole life's savings," he said with his mouth full. "Sure, she's a fuckin' fantastic performer, but is it worth the agony to get her here?"

"Time will tell," Francis muttered. "How are things with Erzsébet?"

Gilbert scoffed and looked away. "She's Erzsébet," he said, swallowing a bit of the banana. "She wants to get married. I know it. She keeps leaving little hints around the flat and in our conversations."

Francis pricked his eyebrows up. "Well, are you going to propose? You two have been together for two years now." He bumped his elbow against Gilbert's. "It's funny, I can't really imagine you being married. It certainly would be an adjustment."

"I don't know; I like things the way they are. Our relationship feels perfect right now. If we tie the knot, Erzsébet is going to want kids and buy a house and whatever," Gilbert said with a sigh. "I dunno if I can keep making her happy."

"So you haven't talked about the next step that much."

"No, we have. I just don't get the big deal of _marriage_. We're already committed to each other, why-"

"If it's important to her, then maybe you can do it for her sake." Francis advised. "Marriage shouldn't change much of anything; it just proves to the world that you guys are devoted to each other."

Gilbert slid off of the stage and wandered off, grumbling, "This is too much. I need a beer."

Francis smirked as he leaned back to lie down on the stage. He wished that Roksana would show up, not only to ease Ludwig's and Feliciano's minds, but so that he didn't have to perform again. He was far too tired to quickly conjure up another performance with Lovino and Feliciano stumbling around behind him.

For a moment, Francis thought about a weekend that was free and spending it completely with Arthur. How nice it would be if the two of them could sit in Francis' apartment, discussing books that they both enjoyed or perhaps watching a movie together (among other things). It had been a while since Francis had daydreamed about a nice quiet evening with someone special; he nearly craved it.

"Hello! I am here!"

Francis sat up to see Roksana Pierogi stepping into the bright light on the dance floor with her hands dramatically posed as if she were standing on a theatre stage. Her manager, Tolys, wasn't too far behind her.

"Yes, yes, you all know me as Roksana, but today, you can just call me Feliks," she finished with a smirk.

Francis laughed. _You haven't changed a bit._

There was a heavy sigh of relief from Ludwig. "Oh thank God," he said under his breath.

"We're so sorry for all of the confusion!" Tolys apologized, hurrying over to where Feliciano and Ludwig stood. "There's a lot going on back at home and we were trying our best to keep up with the emails but-"

"No worries, we're just glad you finally made it!" Feliciano assured, chipper as ever. Ludwig made a soft groan of irritation as his partner went over to greet him. "It's been a while, Feliks! We're so happy you can be here!" He gave Feliks a big hug.

"It has been long time!" Feliks replied, laughing. "When was last time I was visiting here? Last year? It's been too long!" Feliks pulled away from the embrace and looked around the room. "Looks like I am not missing much, though. This place still is looking the same!"

"We're still a relatively new bar; we can't afford renovations," Ludwig said, crossing his arms.

"Oh, I wasn't trying to insult you," Feliks replied with a shrug. "Just stating fact."

"We have everything in our car outside. Would you like us to bring it in?" Tolys asked. He began walking backwards towards the entrance of the club.

"Sure. I think if we all help, we can make it one trip." Ludwig followed the anxious man.

Tolys and Ludwig left the bar, leaving the rest to begin setting up for rehearsals and the events of the weekend. Feliks wandered up to Francis and hopped on the stage to sit beside him. "And how are you, Mirage? I heard you covered for me because of our mistake. Thank you!" Feliks said, leaning on Francis' arm. "I am still waiting to perform with you someday. When will you come to Poland and perform for us?"

Francis grinned. "When I'm fluent in Polish."

"Oh but that will like, take long time, right?" Feliks complained, clearly not detecting the joke. He took a hold of Francis' arm and started to shake him. "Come to Poland! Come to Poland! The people at my bar will love you there!"

"I'll think about it." Francis sighed. "As long as you act as my tour guide and translator."

"Yes! Bam! That will work!" Feliks cheered. "We can discuss songs tomorrow, yeah? I have a lot of songs that we can perform together! Oh my gosh, I'm so excited for this!"

"Nothing is set in stone yet." Francis was a little bit annoyed, because Feliks had been bugging him every visit by pressuring him to perform in Poland. But Francis still couldn't help but smile and laugh at Feliks' charm and optimism.

"Who cares? You said you will perform as long as I am guiding you through my country!" Feliks cheered, leaping off of the stage. "Tolys! Where's my calendar?!"

Tolys and Ludwig had returned, carrying several duffel bags and suitcases inside the bar. Ludwig carried most of the luggage while Tolys was struggling to waddle along carrying a few bags. "What do you need your calendar for?" Tolys replied. He finally dropped all of the bags he was carrying on the floor and tried to catch his breath.

"Francis agreed to perform for us!" Feliks answered, tugging at one of the bags Tolys had dropped.

"We can talk about that another day, Feliks. We have to get your stuff in the dressing room and speak about the logistics of your performances this weekend."

"We have to be doing that _now_?" Feliks whined.

"Yes; you two got here later than you said would," Ludwig stated firmly. "There's a lot of things that need to be set up and-"

"I'm tired though. I have the jetlag and I'd rather go to bed." Feliks looked away and crossed his arms, pouting. "But I guess I have no choice, do I?"

"You don't," Ludwig asserted. "We're going to need everyone's help because Feliks doesn't pack light. The more we work together, the sooner we get out of here." Ludwig looked to Francis. "Francis, can you show Feliks to your dressing room? He'll be using it in his stay here."

"_Ouais, _no problem." He slid off of the stage and motioned for Feliks to follow him. They walked backstage and entered Francis' dressing room.

"Oh wow! I forgot how nice this place was," Feliks remarked as he walked further inside the room. "I admire your organization, Francis."

"It's not that hard," Francis said, chuckling. He crossed his arms and leaned against the door frame. "That, and Ludwig pretty much demands that we keep all of the dressing rooms organized in some sort of matter. So please, don't be too messy this weekend."

"Oh no worries, I am always like, squeaking clean!" Feliks said confidently.

Francis smirked; he knew Feliks was lying. The last time Feliks had performed at _**Atomica**_, despite the fact that he had everything packed and was gone at the time, Francis' dressing room looked as if a storm had blown through. The spare clothing rack Francis kept had been on the floor, with the clothes all splayed out and tossed across the room, indicating that Feliks had been rummaging through the clothes to see if he could "borrow" an outfit. Not to mention that the rack was metal and on wheels; the beams that held the rack together suddenly had dents in them. The worst of all, somehow there was makeup _all over _the mirror. It looked as if someone had _attempted _to clean it, but gave up after a minute or two.

Needless to say, Francis knew _exactly _how messy Feliks could be.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" Feliks asked, putting his hands on his hips. His eyes grew wide. "Oh _shit_, okay, the last time I was here, that was Tolys' fault," he said, blushing a little. "But I promise to keep everything...what is the phrase? Prick and Pam?"

"Spick and span."

"What? That is the nonsense. It's Prick and Pam!"

Before Francis could counter the silly argument, he heard his phone ringing quietly in his pocket. Scrambling to take the phone out of his pocket, Francis excused himself and hurried out of the club so that he could take the call in a quieter setting.

"_Salut_, Francis speaking."

"Hi Francis. Uh...it's Arthur."

Francis couldn't help but smile a little. He leaned against the brick wall. "Ah, couldn't go more than a few hours without hearing my lovely voice?"

"What? No, um, well yes but, uh I just...I just had a question." Arthur stammered. "Though now I feel somewhat embarrassed." He paused again. "I'm sorry, did I catch you at a bad time?"

"No, no, I'm wasn't really doing anything," Francis replied. Helping Feliks and the others with set up and such could _easily _wait.

"Oh, okay. Good." Arthur sighed. "Right, so I was thinking about experimenting with makeup or something. For the weekend, I mean. I don't need it during the day or anything just-"

"I'm glad you're comfortable with experimenting," Francis said, cutting off Arthur's nervous ramble. He chuckled. "I can't do your makeup every time you come to the club."

"No, no I know. I just, um, which brand do you think is...good?"

"_Mon Dieu_," Francis groaned. Did Arthur _seriously _want to go down this rabbit hole over the phone? "Well, first question, where _are _you now? Are you home? Is a computer nearby?"

"No, I'm at a drugstore."

Francis drew in a sharp breath and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Not exactly the best store for makeup, but what are the options?"

"Umm…" Arthur's voice trailed off. Francis imagined him standing in the middle of a makeup aisle, slowly spinning around in a circle as he looked around reading the signs. Francis heard some clinking on the other line, which meant Arthur grabbed the nearest makeup product to him and was studying it. "There's L'Oreal?"

"Okay, gooood," Francis said, striving for patience. "What else? How about Maybelline? Or maybe Rimmel?"

Francis listened to Arthur mumbling to himself, reiterating the brand names as he was most likely walking around the store a bit more. About a minute later, there was an "A-ha!" and a laugh.

"I found Maybelline! So I need foundation, right?"

"Primer. You need a primer."

"Primer? What, am I painting a wall?" There was a sharp intake of breath. "Oh weird. You're supposed to shake the foundation before you use it, right?"

Francis hesitated. "Y-yes."

"So if I shake this, all of the oil at the top will go away?"

"How much is at the top?"

"Hm, maybe a little more than centimeter?"

"_Get out_." Francis said, panicked. It was normal to have some separation in the formula, but there shouldn't be _a lot _of separation. "You are _not _buying makeup there."

"Wha-"

"The makeup is expired. Put it down and walk out of the store."

There was a few seconds' silence until Francis heard the light, cheery chime of a store's bell as someone left the shop. "Okay, I left," Arthur said, slightly out of breath. "Now what?"

"Wait, did you _run _out of the store?"

"Well yeah, it sounded like it was imperative." Arthur groaned after realizing his stupidity. "I wish Alfred and Matthew would go home soon. They're clearly rubbing off on me."

Francis laughed. "Say, what's your schedule like tomorrow? I know we both have work, but, is your evening free? Maybe you can swing by my place and I can show you the _basics_ of makeup."

"Sounds good," Arthur agreed. He paused for a moment. "I'm sorry for bothering you, Francis."

Francis smiled. "You didn't bother me, Arthur." _You never bother me, Arthur,_ Francis thought and wanted to say. "I'm glad you feel comfortable being open with me."

There was a soft chuckle on the other line. Francis could hear the sound of keys jingling around and the slam of a car door. "Well, to be honest, you're the only person who listens."

"I'm here whenever, you know. We can talk about dumb things like expired makeup or serious things. Never hesitate to call me."

Arthur hesitated for a moment. "I'll keep that in mind." By his tone, Francis could tell that he was smiling too. "Talk to you soon, then?"

"_Ouais_, talk to you soon!" Francis cheered. When he hung up, Francis held his cell phone up to his mouth, covering up his smile. He hadn't expected Arthur to put so much trust in him so quickly, but he supposed that's what happens when someone is lonely. They latch on.

Not that Francis minded. No, he didn't mind at all. _Perhaps I'm a little lonely myself_, Francis thought, turning round to go back into _**Atomica**_. Francis hadn't been in a relationship since his second year of undergrad a couple years ago, and he too craved someone to talk to.

"_Ooo_, are you dating someone?"

Francis jumped when he saw Feliks peeking through the crack of the back door. "Feliks, what on _earth _are you doing?"

"I didn't want to set up stage so I came here to see what you were doing. But don't tell Ludwig I am here; he thinks I'm in the bathroom," Feliks explained, opening the door a bit more. "So, who is it? Is it a guy? Do I know him? Are you dating him? You're not responding. Why aren't you talking?"

"I'm not dating him," Francis answered, putting away his phone and crossing his arms.

"Oh yeah?" Feliks snorted. "So it was just _friend_ you were talking and giggling with like school girl?"

"Yes, it was just a friend."

"Hm, didn't sound like it!" Feliks taunted. He shook his hips a little bit in a mocking manner and laughed.

Francis groaned and rolled his eyes. Of _all_ the people to have overheard his small talk conversation with Arthur, it _had _to be Feliks. Even Feliciano could keep secrets better than loud mouth, attention seeking Feliks.

"Look, Feliks, it's a bit complicated because you're jumping in the middle of the story," Francis began.

"Why aren't you telling me about your boyfriend? Are you _embarrassed _or something?" Feliks interrupted. "I mean, come on! I thought you would be happy! I remember when we talked last year after my show and you mentioned that you were lonely." He smirked. "Not to mention that you were jealous of everyone around you because we have, how did you say it? Steady relationships?"

"It's _complicated_, Feliks." Francis sighed, blushing slightly. He turned Feliks around and gently pushed him back inside the club. They began walking back to the main dancefloor where Ludwig, Toris, Gilbert and Feliciano were still setting things up. "And it's an explanation that I refuse to give at this moment."

"Oh that's okay, I get bored with details anyways. I am just wanting to know if he has big dick or-"

"Ludwig! Feliks has just volunteered to perform again in a couple of weeks!" Francis hollered, covering Feliks' mouth with his palm.

Ludwig stopped in his tracks and looked over to where Francis and Feliks were standing. "Really? So soon?" He smiled approvingly before turning back to hanging up a banner. "Well, that's great! I'll put you in the calendar then." Ludwig then frowned. "Hold on, Francis, why are you covering his mouth?"

"Because the two of us already have ideas but we're trying to keep it a secret! And you know how bad Feliks is with secrets." Francis said, scrambling to come up with a lie. "We're just so excited to have Roksana Pierogi perform again!"

"Wait, _what_?!" Tolys shouted. He ran over to them and glared at Feliks, towering over him. "How many times have I told you to _stop _offering gigs without consulting me first! We are so booked in the months to come!"

"Oh, perhaps I misspoke," Francis continued. He cringed a bit because Feliks had been licking his palm in attempt to get Francis to remove it. "But Feliks and I were talking about performing together. Is two weeks too soon? How does the end of the month sound?"

Tolys frowned and quickly pulled out his phone. "Is this true Feliks?" he asked. Feliks looked away and shrugged. "I don't know, we've been all over the place lately. Our main bar is getting a new manager soon, and he isn't exactly the nicest person around. So each place we visit is almost as if we're looking for a new permanent bar," Tolys rambled.

Francis frowned as well. He didn't mean to make Tolys more stressed out. Honestly, the idea of Feliks coming back so soon was a joke; Francis knew it would be impossible.

"I'm open to the idea, I just, we don't have time."

"We don't have to decide now. We can talk about it over coffee sometime," Francis suggested. He _really _wished Feliks would stop licking his hand. "Besides, we have to really work the details out with Ludwig and Feliciano. I'm but a simple drag queen."

Tolys simply nodded, glanced at Feliks questioningly and walked away. Finally, Francis moved his hand away from Feliks' mouth and wiped his hand on his pant leg, groaning in disgust. "Don't you know when to stop?"

"Nope!" Feliks chirped.

Francis sighed. "Look, you cannot mention to _anyone _about what you heard. Okay?"

"So...you don't want people to know you have a boyfriend?" Feliks asked, raising an eyebrow. "That is very confusing. Is it because he has small di-"

"You'll keep your mouth shut, right?!" Francis demanded, poking Feliks' chest.

Feliks thought for a moment, putting his hands on his hips and leaning back and forth a bit. "What are you gonna give me if I do?" he asked, smirking.

"I already gave you your promise. We'll put together a show and perform together. That's what you want, right?"

"Come. To. Po. Land." Feliks said, clapping his hands together with each syllable.

Francis took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of his nose. "_Fine._ I guess we can work that-"

"Yay! Okay, I keep secret like mouse hiding from cat!" Feliks confirmed with a wink. He walked away. "Tolys! I'm hungry! Get me something to eat!"

Francis sighed with relief. Keeping his budding relationship with Arthur a secret wasn't really for Francis, it was for Arthur. Francis simply couldn't go around telling everyone just yet if Arthur wasn't on the same page. Even _if _Francis wanted to tell the whole world.

Francis just had to pray that Feliks would keep quiet.

* * *

**Original Author's Note from 2018:** **At long last, Feliks is here!**

**Personal preference, but I don't particularly like Feliks talking like a Valley Girl, even though it's "somewhat" canon. Instead, I went for how he talks in the dub, where he struggles with broken English. I thought that was more fitting for his dialogue.**

**Also, for those of you who may have read previous chapters before I edited them, Toris is Tolys. I was corrected by TheCrystalFalls that Toris is a mistranslation.**

**Speaking of TheCrystalFalls (3LNR), I would like to thank her for helping me edit this chapter and change some things around for consistency! This chapter would be a mess without her help.**

**As always, if there are any errors that need to be addressed, please let me know! Thank you all for your support of my story. I never thought so many people would like it so much; most of my fanfics are weird and silly, as I thought this one was too. Thank you all so much!**

**One last note, the bit with the expired makeup is based on a true experience I had about a month ago? I was in a Rite Aid waiting for someone to get out of the bathroom so we could leave. I was just walking around the makeup section for fun and I picked up a bottle of foundation. I kid you not, there was so much separation in the bottle, I vehemently gagged and said to myself "These bitches really be out here selling expired makeup!"**

**Anyways, will Feliks keep his mouth shut as promised?**


	11. Martinis and Margaritas

Matthew already knew about Arthur's secret; he knew it years before Arthur even gave him an inkling, but it wouldn't be right for him to tell anyone he knew, even Arthur himself, until Arthur wanted it to be known.

Matthew grew up being an observer. He would watch groups of people behave rambunctiously and immediately see one of the group members completely change when they were no longer around their friends. Matthew's fascination with observing people's behavior began with his own family. He noticed from a young age that even in his immediate family, everyone's behavior changed depending upon who they were with.

People were only their true selves when they believed no one was watching them.

At some point, _a while _ago, Matthew had caught Arthur with his guard down and figured out that Arthur preferred men. Matthew was honestly surprised that his cousin had gone for so long without coming out of the closet, but it wasn't his business, really. He just knew that he would support his cousin no matter what.

"Wait, which club is it again?" Alfred asked, scrolling through his Google search results on his phone.

"Uh, I don't know. He didn't tell me," Matthew lied.

"Nope, you _know_. You talked to him last Saturday before he left so you _know _the deets!" Alfred replied. He elbowed his brother in the stomach. He had meant it in fun, but the jab was too hard and it hurt. "Tell me!"

"I don't remember," Matthew said, scooting away from his brother on the couch. "Remember when I said we should _leave _Arthur _alone_?"

"Pfft, why would we do that?" Alfred scoffed. "Look, if Arthur, of all people, is getting laid, I want in on the action too! Dude, what kind of girls do you think Arthur likes?"

"Uhh…"

"It's actually kind of hard for me to picture Arthur with someone, you know? He's like...such a solitary person. How the hell does he pick up chicks? I don't get it?" Alfred complained. "I've been swiping on Tinder for _ages _and can't get any girl to talk to me!"

Matthew stood up from the couch and walked to the bathroom without saying anything. It was time for him to disappear for a bit to make Alfred lose his train of thought and forget this whole situation all together. With Alfred's ADHD, all Matthew had to do was find another distraction, a distraction away from Arthur, and all would be well.

He reached for the bathroom doorknob, only to find that it was locked. Surprised, he gently knocked on the door. "Hello?"

The door opened just a crack and Arthur peeked through the door. "Yes?" he replied in a whisper.

"Oh, I was just wondering if I could use the bathroom," Matthew answered. He looked at Arthur's eye a bit closer, and noticed that it looked bruised. "Oh my God, Arthur, your eye! Are you okay?!"

Without saying anything, Arthur quickly opened the door and dragged his cousin into the tiny bathroom. There was a slam of the door and Arthur locked the doorknob. He turned back around and leaned against the door, revealing that he was indeed, wearing makeup. Matthew was impressed that Arthur managed to blend the foundation nicely and evenly. However, the art that he had been aiming for must have been too ambitious, because Arthur looked like a complete mess.

"I'm _freaking _out, Matt!" Arthur whispered loudly. Black eyeliner was smudged all over his right cheek; it looked like he had accidentally hit his eye with a mascara wand and his eye had teared up. "I fucked up something and now I have no idea how to fix it!"

Matthew looked over at the sink. "Um, did you try soap and water?" He knew nothing about makeup.

"_Of course _I tried soap and water! Why do you think I look like someone who's gone through a terrible break up?" Arthur snapped. He picked up a round tube and threw it across the bathroom. The product bounced off of the wall pathetically and rolled around in the tub. "Never using that again!"

"Okay, okay, um…" Matthew spun around in place, looking around the bathroom for something else. "I think I have some facial cleanser. Maybe that'll work?" he added as he opened the medicine cabinet. He pulled out a small container of facial wash and handed it to Arthur. "Here, wet your face and rub this all over. I think it says it removes makeup."

Arthur took the container and set it aside, turned the faucet on and rinsed his face. He squirted some of the product into his hand and smeared it across his face vigorously. From what Matthew could tell, the makeup was coming off quite nicely.

"Ah fuck! I got some in my eye!" Arthur hollered.

Matthew grabbed a clean washcloth. "It's okay! Just rinse off the product and then rinse your eye out!"

As Arthur splashed water on his face numerous times, there was a pounding at the door. "Dudes! What the hell is going on?!" Alfred shouted, the locked doorknob beginning to twist slightly and jiggle as Alfred attempted to get inside. "You know it's really sketchy when there are two cousins in the bathroom!"

"Go away, Alfred!" Arthur yelled back. He grabbed the dry washcloth from Matthew and patted his face dry. "This doesn't concern you!"

The banging against the door grew louder, it sounded as if Alfred was throwing his whole body against the door to try to break it down. "I know what you guys are doing! You're planning on leaving me behind to go and pick up some chicks! Not cool, man!" There was another bang. "Let me in!"

Arthur looked up from the washcloth and gave Matthew a puzzled look. "Chicks?" he asked, back to a whisper. "He thinks I'm picking up _chicks_?" Arthur said derisively.

Matthew shrugged.

"Wait, just to make sure you and I are on the same page, you _know_, don't you?" Arthur asked.

Matthew stared at him; of course he already knew Arthur was gay, but it wasn't his place to say it aloud for him. "Know what?"

Arthur glanced over his shoulder and took a step closer to Matthew. "That...that I'm gay?" he clarified in the softest voice.

"Yeah, I've had an inkling for a while," Matthew replied, smiling.

"Right, so if you just _know_, how the fuck does Alfred _not_ know?"

"It's _Alfred_ we're talking about. He wouldn't be able to find the cookie even if you were to hold it up right to his face," Matthew sighed.

Arthur chuckled. "True...that's Alfred," he muttered. "Wait, how _long _have you known, exactly?"

"Umm..." Matthew thought for a couple of seconds. "Since I was in high school I think? You were finishing up college."

"It's been _that _obvious?! Why didn't you tell me?"

"I thought...I thought you knew?"

The banging on the door soon became more frequent, indicating that Alfred was now attempting to kick the door down. "Come on, guys!" Alfred whined. "Let me in!"

Arthur groaned. "Alfred can't know. Not yet. He's the _worst_ with secrets," he said, lowering his voice. "We have to give him a distraction."

"How about we make him run an errand?" Matthew suggested.

Arthur turned to his cousin and raised an eyebrow. "He'll be back quickly though. If we're going to sneak out in peace, he's got to be gone for _hours_."

_Wait, I'm invited?_ Matthew thought to himself with a smile. "We'll send him on an errand across town. He'll have to take an Uber and he'll show up to a store that's _just _closed. Then he'll have to wait for another Uber to pick him up."

Arthur stepped back and stared at his cousin, surprised. "Shit, Matt. That's evil." Arthur grinned. "I fuckin' love it."

Without hesitation, Arthur opened the door and greeted his younger cousin. Alfred jumped in surprise at the door swinging open and Arthur stepping out of the bathroom in confidence. In attempt to scare Arthur off, Alfred crossed his arms and took a step closer to the shorter man.

"Look dude, I don't know what you and Matt are hiding from me, but know that I'm great at finding secrets. So if you know what's best for you, tell me now!" Alfred boasted.

"I need you to run an errand for me," Arthur said, simply. Matthew could hear the sinister smirk in Arthur's tone of voice.

Alfred let his hands fall to his sides and he frowned. "An errand? _That's _the secret?"

"Mm-hm, yep! We wanted it to be a surprise...uh...because...um…" Matthew stammered.

"You're going to do a bit of night sight-seeing while you're on this errand!" Arthur finished for Matthew. "I need you to go to Tesco to pick up some tea for me."

Alfred rolled his eyes, complaining, "That's _lame_, dude. I'm not doing that. Get Matt to do it."

"But see, you have to go to a _specific _Tesco just outside of the city. Only this Tesco has this tea I want," Arthur assured him.

"Oh...kayyy…" Alfred said, skeptical. "Honestly, this sounds like bullshit."

"I'll give you some extra money and you can also buy whatever food you want."

"Done and done!" Alfred exclaimed, clapping his hands together. "Where am I going again? Costco?"

Francis waited by the back door to the club, pacing back and forth in anticipation for Arthur to show up. He was supposed to be there close to 8:00, but it was now 8:45. Did something happen? Why hadn't he texted? Or called? It was highly unusual for Arthur to show up late; it simply wasn't his nature.

"Waiting for somebody?"

Francis turned around to see Feliks, all dressed up in Roksana's clothes and ready to perform, standing behind him. He groaned and chose not to respond to the drag queen.

"Aw, did your boyfriend not show up? How sad," Roksana teased. She put her hands on Francis' shoulders and stood on her tippy-toes to whisper in his ear. "Better hurry up; you will want a front seat to see my show! It starts in fifteen!"

"Go _away_, Roksana," Francis hissed. He pushed her hands away from him and turned around. "Go make sure Lovino and Feli are in their correct positions before the show." His scowl deepened. "Give me my earrings back."

"What earrings?" Roksana replied, taking a couple of steps back. She looked away and avoided making eye contact with Francis. The "borrowed" pair of earrings that Francis kept in his dressing room jewelry box glistened brightly on her ears.

"The earrings you're wearing right now. Those are _mine _so give them back!"

"You are mistaken, Francis!" Roksana sang, turning her back to Francis. "I have same pair."

"_No_, I know that you can't resist "borrowing" things you've taken a liking to, and you've stolen pieces of mine before!" Francis said, spinning Roksana back around. "I've never said anything before because you've taken things that I didn't really care about. But _these_," Francis reached for the earrings. "Are important to me!"

"_Okay_, I promise to give them back! They add just the right amount of sparkle to my outfit!" Roksana assured him with a pout. "Be a good friend!"

"You're going to take them off now. _Please_. They belonged to my mother, and I don't want them to fly off of you while you're dancing nor do I want you stealing them!"

Roksana groaned and began taking the dangling, diamond earrings off. "Ugh, fine. You're such the pooper of the party."

Once she handed the earrings to Francis and walked away, he heard a knock on the door behind him. He quickly swung open the door where Arthur and one of his cousins stood. "I was getting worried you weren't going to show!" Francis exclaimed, embracing Arthur with a tight hug. He glanced up at Arthur's cousin as he pulled away. "You have company today?"

"Yes, sorry, it's a long story. I technically promised Matt that he'd join me to a club one night and well...here we are," Arthur explained, stepping into the club. "This is Matthew, Alfred's older twin."

Matthew waved and greeted him softly. "Hello. I won't interfere with your date tonight. I just came for the booze and the show."

"Is Lay Mirabluh not joining us tonight?" Francis asked with a slight smirk.

"No; we sent him on a fake errand so he wouldn't ask questions about my...whereabouts." Arthur leaned in closer to Francis. "Alfred is the _last _person I want knowing about my sexuality."

Francis raised an eyebrow and looked to Matthew again, smiling. "But you told Matthew?"

"Yes, I did. But he seemed to already know that I was gay _years _before I did!" Arthur said, nudging his cousin's arm. "He's the first person I've come out to. Well, besides _you _of course."

Francis' smile widened and he kissed Arthur on each cheek. "Ah! I'm so proud of you, _mon chou_!" he said, squishing Arthur's cheeks affectionately.

"_Mon chou_?" Matthew repeated, quietly. He was smiling. "Arthur, I thought you said you two were just frie-"

"Francis!"

The three men jumped at the sudden shouting in their general direction. Ludwig was standing right behind Francis with his hands crossed across his chest.

"Are you letting people in from the backdoor _again_?!" Ludwig shouted angrily.

Francis looked away from Ludwig with shifty eyes. "No."

"This is unacceptable! Anyone who doesn't _work _for the club must come through the _front _door!" Ludwig added, poking Francis' arm. "That way it's fair for _everyone_!"

"You know, you just ruined a genuine moment between us!" Arthur hissed.

Ludwig scowled. "_You're_ not supposed to be here! You've broken a lot of the rules we have here and I'm going to have to ask you to-"

"Wait a minute! Last time I checked, you were the one who let me break the rule the first time I was here. You've only got yourself to blame!" Arthur argued. "So stop having a stick shoved up so far your arse!"

Ludwig opened his mouth to counter Arthur's argument, but Feliciano came running down the hallway, dressed with no shirt on and tight leather pants, and ran a circle around his husband.

"Luddy! We're about to go on! It's time for my good luck kiss!" Feliciano sang. He paused for a second and stopped bouncing around with excitement. "Why are you grumpy all of a sudden? Did I do something wrong?"

Ludwig shook his head. "Feli, please don't get involved; I have everything under control." He tried to shoo Feliciano away, then looked over his shoulder at Francis, Arthur and Matthew. "What was your name again? Arthur, _ja_? I'm going to have to ask you to-"

"Hurry up and get to the dancefloor because the show is about to start!" Feliciano chimed in.

"Feli!" Ludwig protested.

Feliciano started pushing the other three towards the the backstage entrance to the club. "Go, go, go! Get some drinks and find a good place to be! Roksana is _wild _on stage!" he encouraged. "You're gonna love the show!"

Francis looked over his shoulder and mouthed the words "thank you" to Feliciano and winked. As Francis caught up with Arthur, he overheard Feliciano still trying to distract his husband:

"Luddy! C'mon, don't be a grumpy goose! Here, look at my butt!"

Francis, Arthur and Matthew hurried their way to the bar by shimmying through the dense crowd of dancing. _**Atomica **_seemed to be incredibly packed this time round; it had never dawned on Francis that this many people loved to see Roksana Pierogi perform. It was most likely because she rarely performed here in London _and _because she was meant to perform last weekend instead of this one. She had been overhyped for a couple of weeks.

_No fair_, Francis thought to himself.

Arthur drummed on the bar counter with his palms. "Antonio!" he hollered.

Down on the opposite end of the counter, Antonio was creating and refilling drinks as quick as he could. He looked like he had too much work on his hands. "_Hola_, Arthur! Glad to see you here again!" Antonio called back. He didn't look in their direction but instead grabbed an empty margarita glass. He shuffled over to where they all stood and began grabbing different liquors for the cocktail he was about to make. "The usual tonight? Apple martini?" He glanced up and slid the margarita to the impatient customer.

Francis leaned over the counter to speak in Antonio's ear. "Toni, just so you know, whatever Arthur and Matthew order, it'll go under my tab."

Antonio snorted. "I hope your bank account is ready; Artie here sure knows how to party!" he said, bringing up one martini glass. "Do you want your usual as well? Peach bellini?"

"I'll have whatever Arthur is having," Francis said.

"Two apple martinis it is," Antonio sighed, then looked over to Matthew. "What'll you have, big guy?"

"Um," Matthew thought long and hard, staring at the list overhead. "What are your specialties?"

"I can make one _hell _of a margarita."

Matthew smiled. "I'll have that then."

Francis chuckled. "Be careful, _Mathieu_," Francis warned. "I can't tell you how many times I've blacked out after having one of Toni's margaritas. It took me nearly two days to fully recover."

"I'll be fine," Matthew assured, shrugging Francis' comment off. "If I just drink glasses of water in between each margarita, I think I'll live."

"Please be careful, Matt; I don't want your mum finding out that I took you to a club while you were here," Arthur added. "You're legal here, but-"

"I'll be fine," Matthew reiterated.

As the three waited for their drinks, the music faded off and the lights in the club dimmed so low they could barely see anything. There were a few stray hoots and hollers across the club as Gilbert was trying to switch music and his tech over for Roksana's performance.

"Just so I have a reference," Arthur whispered in Francis' ears. "In comparison to you, how good is this...Pierogi person?"

Francis snickered. "Well, we both have different performing styles. My style of drag leans on the fishy side. Roksana, though she is _very _fishy, is more of a comedic performer. And she has an eclectic taste in music. Plus, she's a phenomenal dancer and ridiculously flexible. That's how she and Feliciano know each other; they were in a dance competition _waaaaay _back. But, I'm still better than her, of course."

Arthur grinned. "I figured as much."

"Alright you crazy people," Gilbert hollered into his microphone. "It's the moment we've all been waiting for. After two weeks of anticipation, please give a warm welcome to Roksana! PIEROGI!"

As the crowd cheered for Roksana, Antonio finally slid the drinks to the three men, encouraging them to enjoy the show. Matthew made a small comment about how his margarita was shockingly large but took a sip of the drink anyway.

The music faded in with a pulse that grew louder and louder until there was an explosion sound, cuing Roksana's entrance on the stage. The one thing that Francis admired (or was jealous of) in Roksana Pierogi was the fact that she didn't need to work hard for her illusion. Francis, though with plenty of feminine features himself, he still had body hair to shave and wax and had to add larger hip pads to counter his broad shoulders.

Roksana was naturally short and petite, with small shoulders and a delicate face. Roksana was a queen who didn't need to paint her face to give a convincing illusion; she didn't have to apply pounds of foundation and concealer to hide a five o'clock shadow.

Roksana could pass for either gender with ease.

Her start was like a bullet being fired out from a gun, it was already quick and highly animated. Francis shook his head as he watched; Roksana never understood a slow beginning and as the show continued on, the pace would get quicker and quicker.

Subtly was not Roksana's strength.

Despite the show having just started, Roksana was pulling _all _of the stops. High kicks, hair flips, splits, duckwalks, voguing and more. She was using every inch of that stage in the first song alone, making sure that every turn emphasized her sparkly jumpsuit (that also was obvious that she was going to rip it off at some point). Francis was impressed that she was keeping up with the rap in a foreign language.

"Okay, I'm sorry if this comes off as rude, but," Arthur said softly to Francis. "What the actual _fuck _is going on? I mean, how can she keep all of this up? She's all over the place."

Francis stifled a laugh. "You don't like it?"

"No, no, I do. She's good. But...I dunno. I suppose I'm looking for the art that Mirage typically has. Right now, it just looks like dancing and lip syncing."

"Ah, you're biased." Francis said, nudging Arthur's arm. "But, I agree."

The whirlwind of a first act came to a quick end as Roksana did a fake out for a jump split and the song quickly transitioned into another song entirely. Roksana held her hands up above her head and slowly began to squat down. Someone across the club started shouting "Work, bitch!" which was followed by the whole crowd cheering again. By the time the pre-chorus hit, Roksana was already straightening herself up, running her hands over her padded ass.

_This is new. _Francis thought to himself. In the past, Roksana wasn't one to do sexy and flirty performances. She would dance and be strange, which didn't require her to be "sexy."

As the song continued, Roksana began to walk down the narrow portion leading out towards the audience as if she were on a catwalk. With a wink, she flirted with audience members as she gently took her tips from their hands. People reached out to her, as they were already wishing she'd choose them for an after performance rendezvous. But Francis knew that would never happen; Roksana was never one to need a sexual romp after a great performance. She would toy with the thought and with the audience, but she was never one to act upon it.

Not with a stranger, at least.

"This song seems to suit her a bit better. Maybe I just didn't like the other song. Too...bizarre." Arthur commented, turning around and flagging down Antonio for a refill of his drink. Francis looked over to see how Matthew was doing, but he seemed doing fine. He was actually bobbing his head along with the music as he drank his margarita. _Now I understand why Arthur had no problem with coming out to you, Matthew_.

Francis brought his martini up to his lips and watched as Feliciano and Lovino came out on stage, shirtless and in their tight, leather pants. They both tore off Roksana's jumpsuit, revealing a leotard covered in sparkly fringe to highlight every move in the next number. Francis knew what the number was, as it was one of Roksana's favorite songs to perform. She was already shaking her hips and pirouetting on the top tip of her heel.

She just had to be _so _extra.

"If you thought the first song was high energy and over the top, you should watch this one."

"Hm?" Arthur hummed as he turned around with a refilled martini.

Roksana, Feliciano and Lovino were doing a variant of the cha cha as the chorus hit. Roksana had returned to her high kicks and was cartwheeling all across the stage. There were times where Lovino lifted her up by holding her by her waist and flipped her up and around. As per usual, the crowd was going absolutely nuts. Tips were being tossed onto the stage floor.

"She's not going to slip, is she?" Matthew asked.

It was time for the bridge of the song. Roksana ginned, raised her arms over her head and began doing front flips to the front of the stage. Landing on her feet perfectly, she then jumped and high kicked, tapping the tip of her boot with her right hand. She landed once again on her feet, but then fell into a death drop. Again, Francis glanced over at Arthur and Matthew to find them gawking with their jaws dropped in shock. Feliciano and Lovino came running forward and lifted her up by her upper arms and dragged her back to the center stage so they could finish the final chorus. At the final hit of the song, Roksana did a split, still facing forward to the audience as Feliciano and Lovino stood back to back with their arms raised in a pose.

"One day, I swear to God she's going to break a hip," Gilbert muttered. "Okay! Give it up one more time for Roksana Pierogi! If you'd like to see it again, talk to her manager because it's a pain in the ass getting her here. Tolys? Can anyone find Tolys please?"

"That was….insane!" Matthew said, setting his empty margarita glass on the bar counter. "I don't...how the….what…?"

"If you think that was impressive, you should honestly see Francis perform as Mirage Voilà." Arthur had a huge grin on his face.

"Awww, Arthur, you're too kind!" Francis sang, putting his hands on Arthur's shoulders.

Matthew raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Wait, you do drag as well?"

Francis nodded. "Mm-hm, that's how I met Arthur, actually. He mistook me for an actual woman and came back to my dressing room after the show. Don't worry, he ran out after he realized his silly mistake."

Matthew tried to rein in his laughter. "You ran out of the room? Why would you turn a 'shag' down?"

Arthur said nothing as he blushed, but instead guzzled down most of his martini before setting it back on the bar. "Francis, shall we go to the dance floor and enjoy ourselves?" He asked, linking his arm with Francis.

"What, and leave your cousin all by himself, not knowing what to do?" Francis laughed.

"Nah, I'm good! I actually hate being the third wheel. I'm not much of a dancer so I'll sit back and watch. Have fun!" Matthew replied.

Francis set his glass beside Arthur's and the two men walked into the dance mob, dancing away the night.

It was 3:00 in the morning, and _**Atomica **_was virtually empty.

Antonio was cleaning up the bar area by wiping up the counter with a damp rag while Lovino used a push broom to clean up the trash surrounding the bar. Gilbert just had some random music playing as he started to collect most of his tech to pack away. Meanwhile, Arthur and Francis were still on the dancefloor, slightly swaying with the music.

"Should we help them?" Arthur asked.

Francis draped his arms over Arthur's shoulder and shook his head. "_Non_, let them forget we're here," he replied, softly. "By the way, I thought you were going to be wearing makeup today. What happened?"

"Stupid mascara stabbed me in the eye and ruined everything," Arthur grumbled. "Plus, Alfred was being Alfred. Matt and I had to scramble quick to find a distraction for him."

"I see," Francis said. "You need another lesson it seems." He kissed Arthur's cheek before resting his head on Arthur's shoulder.

Arthur chuckled. "Francis, what are we doing?" he asked.

"Hm? We're dancing."

"No, what are we…? The two of us? I know it's too soon to say anything is official but…" He paused. How was he to go about asking such an odd question? Maybe he was mistaken that he and Francis had some sort of chemistry. But why would Francis go out of his way to spend time with him? He was a busy man after all; Arthur couldn't imagine how Francis kept track of being a professor all the while being a drag queen.

"Just say what's on your mind, _mon chou_," Francis said, lifting his head up. He smiled, which only flustered Arthur even more.

"We've been seeing each other a lot lately and well, maybe I'm overthinking it and getting too excited for a possible…?"

"Are you _trying _to ask if we're dating?"

Arthur looked away. "I suppose."

Francis chuckled and kissed Arthur. _I wish you'd stop doing that,_ Arthur thought, hoping that Francis couldn't hear his heart pounding out of his chest.

"Whichever is comfortable for you. We can be dating, or we don't have to be," Francis answered. He pulled away from their close embrace and smirked. "However, what I _do _know is that I want you to come home with me."

Arthur gulped. "_Today_?"

"Is there any other?" Francis said with a wink.

"Bushy brows!" Lovino shouted.

"I think he's talking to you," Francis said, smirking.

Arthur turned to look at the bar to see Matthew lying on the floor, passed out and Lovino shoving the push broom into Matthew's legs. "I think this belongs to you!" called Lovino.

Matthew groaned and slowly rolled over to his other side. "Five more minutes, ma…"

"_Shit_," Arthur hissed under his breath as he hurried over to the bar. He knelt down beside his cousin and shook his shoulder. "Matt," he whispered. "Wake up. We gotta leave."

Antonio leaned over the counter and sighed. "Someone had too many margaritas," he said, his tone of voice indicating no sympathy as he immediately went back to cleaning.

"Matthew, _come on_. Wake up," Arthur pleaded.

Lovino continued to whack Matthew with the push broom. "Hey, _secchione_! It's your alarm speaking! WAKE THE FUCK UP!"

Matthew jolted awake and sat up straight. However, he still had plenty of alcohol in his system and immediately leaned over too far and fell on top of Arthur. "What's happening?" His words were heavily slurred as he slumped into his cousin's arms.

"You're in a club and you've just woken up," Arthur explained softly. "Matt, do you know how many margaritas you had?"

Matthew thought for a long moment. "Two? Wait. Yeah. Two."

"He had more than that," Antonio chimed in.

"Did you drink any water?"

"Let me think. Uuuuuhhhhhhmmmmm…..no." He giggled. "One hell of a tequila, am I right?"

"Margarita," Arthur corrected, groaning. He looked to Francis with a slight frown. "Right, I'd like to come to your place but...with Matt like this, I don't feel comfortable with leaving him on his own to take an Uber back to my place."

"Then just go home, _duh_," commented Lovino, finally walking away from the scene.

"Well, I know it's not the _best _idea, but we can take him back to my place. Roksana and Tolys are actually staying at my place for a bit, so they can help us look after him," Francis offered. "You know, if you don't want to go back home and explain yourself to Alfred."

"I really don't want to impose like that," Arthur replied, sighing. "Plus it sounded like you had…._other plans_."

"Who said we wouldn't act on that?" Francis said, with a grin. "Roksana wouldn't help most likely, but Tolys has a very caring heart. He could be babysitter if he's up to it."

Arthur hesitated. "Matt, do you think you can stand up and walk?"

"I have legs, don't I?" Matthew replied. His head kept bouncing back as if he was catching himself from falling asleep. "So, I need to...I need to make sure I understand the plan. We're going to Francis' place?"

"Well, we haven't deci-"

"We gotta get you laid, son. So yeah, we're going to Francis' place!" Matthew grinned and lifted up his fist. "Woo-hoo!"

Arthur made a face. "Who are you?"

"I'm Matthew. Matthew is my name. That's my name. I am Matthew," Matthew sang.

"Good Lord is he drunk," Arthur commented, linking his arms underneath Matthew's armpit and helping him up to his feet. "How far is your place? My place is right next to the Nook and that's far from here."

"It's a couple of blocks over," Francis answered. "You should message Alfred that you two got too drunk to walk home so you went to a friend's house for the night. Just so he doesn't get suspicious," he added, putting Matthew's left arm around him to help the poor boy walk.

Arthur sighed as they walked towards the exit of the club. "Good idea."


	12. Wanna Know a Secret?

Alfred wasn't a very good detective, but he suspected that something wasn't quite right.

He should have known better when Arthur requested him to run to Tesco for some obscure tea (when Arthur had not even told Alfred the brand of the tea) that it was a ploy to get him out of the way. But he had been bribed with food, so he got excited and hopped on an Uber.

Only to find that the Tesco Arthur described was closed.

His second clue was that he awoke that morning feeling a bit unwell, which meant the Matthew was _very _unwell. Ever since they were kids, Matthew and Alfred shared a bit of empathetic energy, or ESP as their parents liked to call it. It was no longer a strong bond as it had faded as they had gotten older, but at the least both Alfred or Matthew could still tell when the other was feeling ill.

His third and final clue was when it got to 1:00, 2:00, 3:00, 4:00 in the morning and Arthur and Matt _still _weren't home. Alfred had called both of their cells several times, leaving more and more panicked messages in their voicemail.

It was now 2:30 in the afternoon, and neither of them had come home.

But it was all going to be okay, because suddenly, Alfred had a plan. He logged into his family's cell phone account and hit "track device location". From there, he was able to get a general direction of where his brother was (Arthur was on his own if he was somewhere else).

Alfred took a taxi to the address where his brother's cellphone indicated and found himself at an apartment complex. As the taxi drove off, Alfred sighed to himself. "Please be here, big bro," he said softly. He stepped into the complex and groaned as he gazed at the very long, three flight staircase. "I guess we'll start with the first floor," he added, plodding up the steps.

He stepped in front of the first door that was next to the staircase and knocked. When a frail old lady opened the door, Alfred put on his best smile and began his search.

"Good afternoon, ma'am. I'm looking for my brother and I was wondering if you've seen him by chance?"

Arthur woke up to a slight draft in the bedroom and pulled the covers over his shoulder. At first, he was unsure as to where he was, but then he remembered that he came home with Francis after another night at _**Atomica**_. After they had stepped into the flat and Tolys assured that he would take good care of Matthew (despite Matthew throwing up in the bathroom at that moment), Francis and Arthur found themselves in Francis' bedroom with hands exploring each other's bodies.

It was an event filled with embarrassment and passion. With Arthur not knowing what to do and being a nervous wreck, Francis had to keep reassuring Arthur that everything was okay and that he didn't mind that Arthur was "a mess." They slowly went by it step by step to ensure comfort and pleasure. It only took one round for Arthur to get the hang of it all.

The small sound of soft snoring was heard behind Arthur and he couldn't help but chuckle a little. _I would have never guessed Francis snored in his sleep,_ Arthur thought to himself as he rolled over to the other side to face his lover. Even in sleep, Francis was still so beautiful, and Arthur couldn't resist the temptation to reach over and push back a stray strand of hair behind Francis' ear. Despite their friendship being so fresh and new, Arthur knew he had fallen pretty hard for Francis. He was still unsure if Francis even remotely shared the same feelings, but as of now, he did not care. He was more than happy to be by his lover's side.

Arthur looked over Francis' shoulder to see the clock on the night stand beside the bed. He nearly jumped when he realized it was close to 3:00 in the afternoon. _Have I really been asleep _that _long?_ Arthur carefully pulled the covers off of himself to not wake Francis. He reached for his pair of underwear that lied on the floor when a hand grabbed his wrist and pulled him back.

"Where do you think you're going?" Francis asked. His voice was rather hoarse from sleep and their passion last night. "The bed is going to get cold."

Arthur laughed. "As much as I'd love to stay, it's kind of late for morning standards. Matt and I should really get home."

Francis sat up, turned to see his clock and groaned. "_Merde_. It is late." He ran his hands through his wavy hair and sighed. "Last night was fun, _non_?"

"After I was properly educated, yes. I enjoyed it," Arthur replied, pulling up his briefs. "I apologize for being so..."

"Oh stop," Francis said, standing up. He grabbed a robe from his closet and wrapped it around himself, heading to the adjacent bathroom. "You were fine. I'm actually fairly sore from last night. You were rougher than I thought you'd be."

Arthur finished dressing himself and took a better look around the room. On the dresser, there were four different familial pictures resting on top. All of them were of a woman, and Arthur immediately assumed that they were headshots of Mirage. But as he picked up one of the picture frames and studied the picture more, Arthur noticed that there was a small child standing in front of the woman. The woman and the child were standing by a creek in their bathing suits with big smiles as if they had been laughing when the picture had been taken.

It took him a minute, but Arthur soon realized that the woman, who looked _exactly _like Mirage Voilà, was Francis' mother.

"Oh, you found my pictures." Francis sounded slightly sad; at the sound of his voice Arthur turned around quickly. Francis gently took the picture frame from Arthur and smiled at it fondly. "There was a creek that ran behind our first house and my Maman loved to take me there to dip my feet in."

"H-how old were you in this picture?"

Francis thought for a second. "Three, I think," he murmured before setting the picture back in its place.

"This is probably a silly question but, do you remember her? Vividly, I mean." Arthur asked, cautious.

Francis pulled his robe around him tighter for comfort and took a deep breath. "I think of her often, yes. But she died when I was so young that my memories fade each year. The one thing that sticks out the most from my childhood was the song she used to sing to me. I actually have a video tape of her holding me when I was a baby, singing the so-" Francis stopped. He swallowed and looked away. He set the picture back on the dresser. "What's your mother like?"

"My mum? I dunno, really," Arthur answered, shrugging. "She's never been a part of my or my brothers' lives."

Francis hesitated, then recalled, "That's right, you said you were raised by your grandmother. Is your mother no longer around?"

"Nah, she's somewhere, I just dunno where. She's one of those adults who never grew up, you know? She never wanted to be responsible, she just wanted to do as she pleased." Arthur sighed, running his fingers through his own hair tiredly. "So when she got pregnant with Alistair, my oldest brother, she calmed down for a bit from what I understand. She stayed with my Nan and Grandad to take care of Alistair, but left after his first birthday. A year later, she came back with Laughlin. Stayed for a few months, claimed she was going to change, and then left. The next year, came home with Dylan. Again, stayed for a few months and left. Then I was born and after having me for two weeks, she quite literally dropped me off at my Nan's house. She didn't stay that time; by then, it was just routine. Get pregnant. Have baby. Drop it off. Repeat."

"Jesus…" Francis shook his head slowly. "Do you and your brothers all have different fathers?"

"Yep," Arthur said shortly. He adjusted his shirt collar and sighed again.

"So you have no relationship with your mother, whatsoever?"

"Nope. I barely even know what she looks like. She never even bothered remembering my birthday. She remembered my brothers', but never mine."

Francis put his arm around Arthur and a hand over his lover's heart. "I'm sorry, that's awful." His voice was gentle, as though Arthur might crumble if he spoke too harshly.

Arthur shrugged. "It is what it is."

Francis shook his head as he rubbed Arthur's back. They stood still for a bit, in silence, in mutual understanding. Arthur realized that the two of them combined had enough baggage to fill an entire room.

"Come on, let's go have some breakfast." Francis laughed. "Even though it's three o'clock in the afternoon."

Arthur laughed as well as he followed Francis out of the bedroom.

There was one, final door for Alfred to knock. He prayed that his brother was in there, considering he didn't want to contact the police. Alfred could barely understand his cousin's accent when he got incredibly angry and his cockney accent turned into the bark of a seal. He couldn't imagine getting a hold of the police and not understanding a word of their accent.

Alfred took a deep breath and sighed heavily as he raised his fist to knock on the door. He waited a couple of seconds and was ready to knock again when the door speedily swung open.

"Yes, hello, what do you want?" the short person asked.

"Hi, I'm sorry to bother you…" Alfred's voice trailed off as he stared at the person for a moment. "Miss? But I'm looking for my brother and I was wondering if you happened to have seen him around?"

"Hm, yes. Does he look like you by chance?"

Startled, Alfred began rambling, "Yes! He's my twin! We're twins! We're the same height and we have the same face and-"

"Yeah, I am thinking he is guy sleeping on couch. Come in."

Alfred pushed past Feliks into the apartment and soon saw his brother, lying flat on his stomach with the hood of his sweatshirt up, sleeping on the couch. "Oh, Matthew! Thank God you're okay!" Alfred exclaimed. He knelt down beside the couch and put a hand over Matthew's shoulder. "I seriously thought you were murdered by Jack the Ripper, bro. Where's Arthur? Is he okay? Matt? Hey, wake up bro."

Matthew slowly lifted his head up and stared at his brother with bloodshot eyes. He then put a gentle hand over Alfred's lips and scowled. "Hey Alfred," he whispered. "Do me a favor: Shut the _fuck_ up."

Stunned, Alfred quickly stood up and took a step back from his irritable brother. "That's... unlike you, Matt. Are you okay?"

"What did I _just _say?" Matthew hissed, putting his head back down on the pillow.

"Yeah, you might not want to talk to him. He's grouchy." Feliks said, sitting down in the recliner beside the couch. He offered his hand to Alfred. "You can call me Feliks."

"I'm Alfred," Alfred replied, kindly shaking Feliks' hand. "Wait, you're a dude?"

Feliks shrugged as he reached for his coffee mug and took a sip. Alfred stood in the middle of the living room, dumbfounded, as the bathroom door opened and Tolys came out dressed and with hair still damp from a shower. He took one glance at Alfred and glared at Feliks. "Feliks, who is this?"

Feliks glanced at him. "Alfonso."

"_Alfred_," Alfred corrected.

"This isn't our place, Feliks, you can't let some random person in!" Tolys shrieked.

Matthew groaned. "Inside voices, _please_."

Tolys nodded and stepped closer to where Alfred stood and Feliks sat, whispering, "Look, I'm going to have to ask you to leave. This is our friend's place and I don't think he'd like it that we let a stranger into his house."

Alfred crossed his arms and furrowed his brow. "Oh yeah?! Well this guy is my brother and I was worried about him!"

Tolys put a finger over his lips and shushed Alfred. "Okay, okay, I get that and your brother will be going home soon. Whenever Arthur wakes up," he added, still whispering. "And you need to talk quietly; Matthew has a really bad hangover and he is not the happiest right now."

"Wait, Arthur is here too?" Alfred turned back to his brother, whining, "Man, what the fuck? You guys go out and have fun without me? What kind of friends are you?"

"We're not your friends, we're your relatives, and you ruin everything." Matthew's voice was muffled by the couch cushion.

"Okay but if this isn't _your _place, and it's definitely not Arthur's place, whose place is this?"

"Francis'." Tolys and Feliks said together.

Alfred narrowed his eyes. "Who the hell is Francis?"

Matthew sat up on the couch with surprising speed and pointed to Feliks. "_Don't_ answer that," he said monotonously. Feliks grinned and took another sip of his coffee. "Alfred, let's just go. I'm feeling gross and sweaty and I'd rather take a shower at Arthur's flat."

"But if Arthur is here, we might as well wait for him, right?" Alfred replied.

Feliks giggled in his coffee mug. Both brothers stared at him, Alfred in confusion and Matthew in full-blown panic. "Oh sorry. Did I giggle out loud?" Feliks asked Tolys.

"Yes." Tolys groaned. "Matthew, are you sure you're okay? It's really bright outside and I'm not sure if you're headache has subsided yet."

"No, no, it's fine!" Matthew fibbed. He began pushing his brother to the door. "Thank you for your help, Tolys. And Feliks, you put on a wonderful show. It was nice meeting you both." He opened the door, nervously laughing. "Alfred, don't be stubborn, we gotta go."

"No, we should wait-"

"WE GOTTA GO."

The brothers continued to argue for several minutes until Feliks began to laugh at them. Matthew froze as he looked at Feliks in his peripheral.

"Sorry, I am just laughing at the thought of you two actually _waiting _for Arthur and Francis." Feliks took the spoon he had kept on the side of his coaster and stirred his coffee.

"Who the _fuck_ is Francis?" Alfred demanded.

"Arthur's boyfri-"

Before Feliks could finish, Matthew shoved Alfred out the door as hard as he could, causing his brother to fall into the wall in the hallway and slammed the door shut behind him. Alfred continued to ask questions, demanding that Matthew explain to him what had gotten into him. But Matthew wasn't having any of it, Alfred soon realized, as they silently walked home.

When Francis stepped out of his bedroom, he immediately felt that the air was tense. As he walked further down the hallway, his eyes met with Tolys, whose eyes were wide with panic as if he had _just _been talking about Francis. Feliks was sitting in the reclining chair, cradling his coffee mug in his hands. He greeted Francis with a shit-eating grin.

"Boy, you have shit timing," he teased. "Matthew and Alfonso just left."

"His name was Alfred, Feliks." Tolys sighed.

Francis gave them a questioning look. "What do you mean? Alfred was here?"

"Yeah, he seemed worried about his brother. And Arthur too, but Matthew pushed him out the door before you two love birds walked out."

Francis turned to Arthur who just now stood beside him. His hair was still a mess from sleep, and the bags under his eyes were slightly puffy. Francis wanted to laugh, because in any other moment, he'd say Arthur looked oddly adorable. But because it seemed like family matters could implode at Arthur's flat, he kept his laughter to himself.

"What's going on?" Arthur asked.

"Coffee or tea?" Francis wandered over to the kitchen, thinking he should at least try to change the topic.

"Normally I go for tea, but given that I'm so exhausted, I'll go for coffee today," Arthur answered. He looked around the living room and felt his heartbeat pick up speed immediately. "Where's Matt?!"

"He just left. Some person named Alfonso came and picked him up."

"Feliks! His name is Alfred!" Tolys corrected.

Feliks muttered, "I remember otherwise."

Arthur stood still and didn't say a word. The room grew uncomfortably silent as the others waited for his reaction. "A-Alfred was here?" He pulled his cellphone out of his pocket to scroll through his messages. "Oh," he said with a sinking feeling in his chest. "The message I sent to Alfred last night, warning him that Matthew and I were staying elsewhere...I must not have pressed send. It's still sitting in my drafts."

Francis looked over his shoulder from the kitchen to his lover and frowned; despite Arthur's blank expression, he knew that Arthur was panicking internally. He had told Francis that Alfred was the last person on earth he wanted to know about his sexuality, and if Alfred now knew...well. Alfred could take away the chance of officially coming out of the closet from Arthur.

Francis moved over to Arthur and wrapped his arms around his neck. "Breathe," he whispered to him. "Everything is going to be okay."

Arthur's mind was jumping from one potential disastrous outcome to another so fast he felt dizzy. "But if Alfred knows, he's going to think it's a joke and tell everyone and my family will-"

"Breathe," Francis repeated softly. "Everything is going to be okay."

"But what if they-!"

"_Breathe_," Francis kissed Arthur and cradled his jaw. "Seriously, things will work out fine. Just give it some time."

Arthur hesitated for a moment, trying to get his heartbeat to slow down a little. "I should get home," he muttered, suddenly very conscious of Tolys and Feliks staring at him and how his cheeks were burning. "So he doesn't get suspicious or anything."

Francis smiled. "Keep me posted, okay? If you need to talk, call me."

Arthur nodded, returned Francis' kiss, said his slightly awkward goodbyes to Feliks and Tolys, and went for the door. He paused as he opened the door, his eyes lingering over at Francis before exiting the flat. Francis understood him perfectly, because he had been there not too long ago, but he knew that Arthur was strong; he would make it though, and things would be okay again.

Alfred closed the door behind him and looked over his shoulder watching his brother making his way to the bathroom. "What's with you, man?" Alfred asked, chasing after his brother.

"Nothing. Why?" Matthew answered, standing in the doorway.

"You're acting funny," Alfred said. "And how come you and Arthur made me go on a _fake _errand while both of you went to the club?! That's not fair!"

Matthew sighed. "Don't think too much of it, okay Al? We didn't think you'd like it that much."

"You didn't think I would like a _club_?! Matt, I'm offended!" Alfred whined. "How long have you known me?"

"All of my life, unfortunately." Matthew groaned. "Look, we're sorry. It won't happen again. Try not to make a big deal about it." He closed the door to the bathroom and Alfred heard the water turn on. Alfred moved to the couch and fell into the cushion.

Leaning his head back as he slouched, he began to think about what _else _could Matthew and Arthur be keeping from him. Being in that apartment, Alfred had been confused about the energies generating in that room. When the door had been first opened, he was _certain _that Feliks was female. He definitely was short enough and looked the part. Then there was the other guy who came out of the bathroom. "What was his name again?" Alfred thought aloud. "Taurus?"

Alfred thought and thought and thought, but nothing was really making sense. Was Matthew keeping a secret from him? No, that would be impossible; twins couldn't keep secrets from each other, not for very long, anyway.

Perhaps the secret was where they were going that night. But why? Alfred was a cool guy, or so he confidently believed, so why leave him out on such a fun occasion? And whose secret was it, really? Matthew's or Arthur's?

"There was a third guy, but I didn't see him," Alfred mumbled under his breath. "Francis?"

Bam, and the pieces were beginning to come together.

Alfred knew now that the secret wasn't Matthew's. Matthew told Alfred close to everything because as twins, they were each other's confidant. The two of them had already had the sexuality talk between them when Matthew blurted that he thought he was asexual.

Neither Francis nor Arthur had been in the room while he, Matthew, Feliks and Tolys were all talking, meaning that Arthur and Francis must have been in the bedroom. _Together_. Then there was Feliks babbling something about the two of them. Something about Francis being Arthur's boy. Boy...friend?

"Oh. My. God," Alfred whispered. Pleased with himself that he figured out the puzzle, he quickly pulled out his phone to send a message to his sixty-three person group chat that read:

_Wanna know a secret? Arthur's gay!_


	13. The Breakdown

Arthur was just about to open the door to his flat when he got the text message. He had his keys ready in his hand while he pulled out his phone and read the message.

_Wanna know a secret? Arthur's gay!_

Arthur suddenly felt that he couldn't breathe. He looked at who Alfred had sent the message to, his heart beating faster: Alistair, Laughlin, Dylan, Matthew, Alfred and Matthew's parents, and a bunch of other people he did not recognize.

But most importantly, Alfred had sent it to his and Arthur's devout Catholic Nan.

The room felt as if were spinning, starting off slow and increasingly spinning faster and faster. He wanted to throw up. He wanted to scream. He wanted to _kill _Alfred.

With shaking hands, Arthur unlocked the door and took a deep breath before he opened it all the way. As he opened the door, he was greeted by Alfred and Matthew loudly arguing.

"How _could_ you?!" Matthew shouted. Though he was partially dressed, it was obvious that he had not finished drying from his shower. His long hair was still dripping wet, with water dripping hastily down his shoulders and onto the floor. "Do you know what you've done? _No_, you don't, because you're an incompetent asshole who can't seem to see anything past his blinders!" Matthew added. Arthur was surprised that Matthew had the capability of yelling.

"It's just a bit of fun!" Alfred countered. "Why are you even mad? You were in on the secret for so long!"

"Fun?! You think this is _fun_?!" Arthur snapped.

The twins immediately stopped arguing and turned to see Arthur standing in the doorway. Matthew took a couple of steps back away from his brother, knowing full well that Arthur would raise hell quicker than he ever could.

"Do you even _realize_ what you have done to me?" Arthur hissed. He slammed the door shut as hard as he could, making both brothers jump. "Do you realize how much you've _ruined _me?!"

"Dude, being gay is so in right now. People aren't going to even bat an eye," Alfred said, attempting to shrug his guilt off.

Arthur quickly stomped over to where Alfred sat and slapped him with the back of his hand. Before Alfred could properly react, Arthur grabbed the collar of his cousin's shirt and pulled him up from the couch. "You've _taken _away my chance to come out to my family! You've taken that away from me!" he shouted. "You, Alfred Fitzgerald Jones-Williams, are perhaps the most absolute _worst _human being I've ever met! You are worse than the wretched slop that pigs eat out of their trough. Worse than the smell of chicken shit! Do you hear me?"

"Dude! It was a _fucking _joke!"

"No, you don't get to speak! You will _never _understand what you've done!" Arthur yelled. "I will _never_, _ever _forgive you, Alfred! You're _dead _to me. And when you die, not only do you not deserve a place in Heaven, but you also don't deserve a place in Hell. I hope that when you arrive to the gates of Hell, the Devil himself turns away, making your wretched soul rot away in an endless void."

Alfred rolled his eyes. "Wow, what a Drama King you are."

Arthur pushed Alfred back into the couch and let his clenched fists fall to his side, his head down. "Right, no need for you to get upset. You don't even know how to process emotions, because you're a sociopath. You can't even apologize for the damage you've done."

"I'm so-" Alfred half heartedly began.

"No," Arthur hissed. "If you're going to apologize to me, I want it to be from the heart. Not some half-assed apology because I told you to do it." He turned to go down the hallway to his bedroom. "I think I'll go to bed early."

With that, he closed the door behind him, and collapsed into his bed, feeling completely numb.

Francis was sitting at his dining room table with his laptop open, finally grading the papers he should have gotten to a couple of weeks ago. All of the essays were terrible, filled with bullshit and nonsense so the student could just get to the page minimum. Despite wishing he could write his students a scalding email about how annoyed he was with their efforts, Francis chugged along in his grading, pacing himself so he could attempt to give each student a fair grade.

"I'm bored," Feliks groaned. He was hanging upside down on the recliner, waving around one of the cat toys for Francis' cat, Vivienne, who had lost interest hours ago. When Francis did not respond, Feliks sighed heavily and louder for a grand effect. "I'm boooooorrrrred."

Feliks' voice was like a cheese grater against Francis' ears: high pitched and whiny. Francis sighed; he was beginning to regret agreeing to let Tolys and Feliks stay in his apartment. "Didn't you impulsively buy a giant box of crayons the other day? Why don't you color something?" he said, typing a grade in his online gradebook.

"I don't have any of those fancy dancy, adult coloring books," Feliks complained. "When is Tolys coming back?"

"When he gets back." Francis opened up another word document. Tolys had gone out to pick up some Chinese food from a place two blocks over. Normally, wherever Tolys went, Feliks went as well, but today, Feliks was in the mood to annoy someone else, and that someone else was Francis.

Feliks rolled off of the recliner, his legs hitting the floor with a thud which in turn scared the skittish cat. "Are you this boring, like, all the time?" he asked, sitting on his knees.

"I have work to do, if that's what you're asking."

"Wow, who would have thought? Mirage Voilà, more like… Boring… Voilà."

Francis rolled his eyes, unamused. "Good one. I'm so upset."

The room fell silent. Soon, the cat came around the dining table, rubbed against Francis' ankles and meowed. Francis reached down to stroke Vivienne's head and smiled. He spoke to her in a high pitched voice in French, eventually picking her up and holding her for a moment. When he sat back up in his seat, with a cat in his arms, he was surprised to see Feliks was sitting across from him.

"So Arthur is your boyfriend, yes?" Feliks asked, leaning on both of his elbows. "Will you tell me now if he has big di-"

"Yes, he and I are seeing each other," Francis replied, kissing the top of Vivienne's head.

"Seeing each other, ugh, what is the point of saying that? Just say that you two are doing the dating and get over the awkwardness!"

"I normally would, but it's complicated with Arthur," Francis explained. "He's not out of the closet."

"He's not?" Feliks said, sitting up a bit in shock. "Oh."

Vivienne jumped out of Francis' arms and landed on the chair beside him. Francis was taken aback by Feliks' unusually serious expression. "_What_?"

"Uhhhh, I may or may not have been making big joke about you and Arthur having sex last night while Alfred was here," Feliks mumbled with a nervous giggle.

"You did _what_?"

"To be fair, I did not know he was still hiding in closet!" Feliks hollered, standing up quickly. "But hey, now he will be able to be comfortable now, yes?"

Francis only glared at him.

Feliks frowned, glancing away. "Or maybe not."

In that moment, Tolys stepped into the apartment with two full bags filled with Chinese food. "My apologies for taking so long," Tolys announced. "The line was very long, they then tried to give me the wrong order and…" His voice trailed off as he looked around the room and sensed the mood. "Is everything alright?"

Arthur's phone wouldn't stop ringing.

First, Dylan called. Out of his three older brothers, Arthur and Dylan had been close growing up due to their ages, and it made sense Dylan would be the first one to check in on him. Torn between denying the whole thing and finally coming out, Arthur refused to answer his phone, so Dylan left a message in Arthur's voicemail that Arthur was too afraid to listen to.

The second person who called and left a message was Alistair. Alistair and Arthur had an odd relationship as the oldest and youngest. Some days, they got on just fine and managed to go through days without fighting. Then there were other days where they could not stop arguing. Arthur didn't want to talk to Alistair, even if there was a chance he would take the news well.

Then there were the insistent text messages from Alfred. "Dude, I'm really sorry. Please come out of your room." "Man, okay, I get what I did was stupid, but there's no need to sulk for the rest of the day." "Dude! Come on! I said I was sorry! I'm ordering pizza as a peace offering." "Arthur, please. Just. Come out of your room. The pizza's here."

The last text message that came through was a picture of a very round cat, lying against a couch pillow with tears.

Arthur kept his cell phone on his nightstand as he laid on his bed with the covers over his head. The last thing he wanted was to be bothered, and everyone was bothering him.

There was a knock on his door, followed by its creaking as Matthew stepped in. He gently closed the door behind him and walked over to the bed. At first, Matthew said nothing. He simply sat on the edge of Arthur's bed. "Um, I was wondering if you'd like some pizza?"

Arthur peeked out from under the covers to see Matthew holding two plates with two pieces of pizza on them. He promptly went back in hiding. "Just leave it on the table," he mumbled.

Matthew hesitated. "Are you sure?"

"Yes."

Again, Matthew said nothing as he set the plate on the nightstand and made his way back to the door. He stood still for a second, looking back over to his cousin. "I know you feel alone, but just know that you're not. What Alfred did doesn't change who you are. It doesn't change what I think of you. I will always stand with you," Matthew said, gently. "And despite what he did, Alfred stands with you too."

When Arthur remained silent, Matthew left the room as quietly as he came in. The smell of the pizza was enticing, and Arthur couldn't deny that his hunger was unbearable, but his anger made him feel disgusted at the thought of eating.

The cell phone began to ring again. Arthur looked to read the caller ID, and saw that it was his Nan. He already knew what she would say if he answered the call. He knew how sick he would feel, how disgusted with himself he would feel afterwards. She would say he was a sinful being that would surely pay for his sinful deeds. She would claim that the world was wrought because of him and other people like him.

She would make him feel broken again.

Arthur ignored the call, hiding further into his blanket, and was relieved when the ringing stopped. A few seconds passed and his phone started ringing again. It was his Nan, _again_. Arthur put a pillow over his ears and waited for the ringtone to stop. But it kept going off again, and again, and again, with Nan's caller ID popping up each time.

Soon enough, she had given up.

Arthur began to relax after a while, allowing himself to slowly fall asleep. Just as he was about to completely give in to his drowsiness, his phone rang again. Only this time, the ringtone was different from before, which made Arthur slowly pull the covers off and glance at the screen.

It was Francis.

"Hello?"

When Arthur answered his phone, Francis knew that just by the tone of his voice, that something had happened.

"_Bonsoir, mon chou_, I haven't heard from you. Did everything work out with Alfred?" Francis had a feeling that the answer would be negative, considering what Feliks had told him.

There was a slight hesitation on the other end, but Arthur gave in. "He told everyone," he answered, his voice wavering as if he were on the verge of tears. "And now, my Nan won't stop calling my phone."

"Have you spoken with her?"

"No. I don't want to talk to her."

"How come?"

"Because." Arthur said. Francis could tell he was fighting the tears so hard. _Just let them fall, Arthur. It'll make a world of a difference. _"She'll make me feel sick, like I'm a vile person. After everything she dealt with with my mother, she worked so hard to make sure we all turned out right. And I fucked it up. I fucked it up, Francis." Those words were his breaking point. Arthur began to cry, melting into a blubbering mess. Francis felt tears welling up in his eyes in empathy; he took a deep breath and tried to push them back. He had to be the calm one.

"Do you mind starting from the beginning?" Francis asked, softly.

"From where?"

"Anywhere."

Arthur sniffed and let out a deep breath. "My mother is a screw up, if you didn't gather from our earlier discussion. She constantly disappointed my Nan when she was a kid, and so when my Nan was forced to raise my brothers and I, she made sure that we wouldn't end up like our mother. Her strategy was to scare us. _Terrible _things would happen if we were bad. One of the things she constantly told us _not _to be was to be gay, for it would result in eternal damnation."

"And do you believe that?"

Arthur hesitated. "No."

"Then why are you upset that your Nan keeps calling you?"

"Because I've let her down! She's going to hate me forever!"

Francis thought for a moment. "So why bring the religion up?"

"It's what she _taught _me."

"What did you say about your mother today?"

"She's a screw up."

"Not that part. Was she there for you in your and your brothers' lives?"

"No. All she ever did was push us out and hand us to Nan."

Francis could tell Arthur was not appreciating this interrogation, but it was vital. "Do you feel that she abandoned you?"

"Of course. Who wouldn't feel that way?"

"Okay, Arthur, in the next question I'm going to ask you, I want you to think before you answer," Francis said. "Do you think your mother's abandonment makes you fear that your Nan will abandon you?"

There was silence on the other end for several minutes. "I've never thought of it that way before…" Arthur said in a low voice. "How did you do that?"

Francis chuckled and curled a strand of his hair around his index finger. "I have a PhD in psychology. But do you think that?"

"What, that my Nan will abandon me? Well, yeah. My whole family will. They'll disown me."

"Your _whole _family?" Francis asked. "Or are you projecting your own fear on everyone else?"

Arthur scoffed. "Okay, _now _you can stop doing that therapist thing."

Francis laughed. "I'm not a therapist."

"My family never really liked me, if I'm truthful. Before my Grandad passed, he always said that I added extra financial strain to the whole family. Not like it's completely my fault; I didn't _ask _to be born. My brothers always picked on me, called me a pansy and what not."

"And your Nan?"

Arthur paused. "Despite the whole 'devils will drag you down to hell' thing, she was supportive of me." He laughed. "You know I got the idea for the Book Nook because of her, right? My brothers used to bully me badly, so she helped me create a small corner in the house just dedicated to me. It consisted of pillows, blankets as tents, and lots of books. Whenever I felt anxious or sad, I would go there to read and escape."

Francis smiled. "Sounds like your Nan loves you very much, Arthur."

"She does," Arthur sighed. "But now, she might not."

"Can't you give her a chance? Maybe she's calling you to check in on you, to make sure you're alright." Francis suggested. "I mean, what did Alfred do, _exactly_?"

"He created a group chat between me, Matthew, my brothers and my Nan and wrote 'wanna know a secret? Arthur's gay!'"

"Ugh, straight people." Francis groaned.

"I'm going to fucking murder him."

"Please don't," Francis said. "But do remind me to slap him the next time I see him."

Arthur laughed. "I'd love to see that actually."

"Good; I'm glad you're laughing," Francis grinned. "Have you eaten?"

"No, I feel too sick to eat."

"Has it ever occurred to you that maybe you feel sick because you _haven't _eaten?"

"Okay, didn't I ask you to stop with that therapist thing?" Arthur joked.

"I'm not a therapist."

Arthur snorted. "_Sure_. Well, Matthew did bring me some pizza earlier. But it's gotten stone cold…" He sighed. "Anyways, thank you for checking in on me, Francis. It means...it means a lot."

"No problem, _mon chou_. If you ever need to talk, don't hesitate to call me, okay? I may be working or giving lectures, but if that happens, I'll call you back ASAP."

"I greatly appreciate it. Well, I won't hold you up much longer," Arthur concluded. "I'll talk to you soon." He paused. "This is probably embarrassing but, I love you."

"It's not embarrassing," Francis replied, softly. "I love you too."


	14. Puppy Therapy

It had been a week since The Incident and Francis knew Arthur still hadn't answered his Nan's calls, but Francis was certain he could get Arthur back in good spirits. After some convincing, Francis had gotten Arthur to agree to attend a dinner with Francis' friends. The friends, of course, were Feliciano and Ludwig.

Feliciano and Ludwig, though they lived in domestic bliss currently, most certainly had had their fair share of struggles. The biggest obstacle they had faced was Ludwig being unsure of his sexuality. He had been so confused when he had fallen for Feliciano, convinced that he was either a "late bloomer" or somewhere on the asexual spectrum. When his feelings for Feliciano became too much to bear, Ludwig attempted to cure himself by ignoring it and working out more. Luckily, Feliciano was a persistent little bugger and got Ludwig to loosen up.

The two of them would be perfect as an additional support for Arthur.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Arthur asked. They stood right outside the apartment door. They had been holding hands as they had walked into the apartment complex, but let go when Francis went to knock on the door. He was nervous; it had been awhile since he had met with acquaintances for a meal, and he never cared for small talk. "I mean, I vaguely know Feliciano and Ludwig but…"

"Yes, I think so. You need to surround yourself with positive, supportive people," Francis replied, knocking on the door once more. "Not that Matthew isn't a positive, supportive person but he's Alfred's twin. You need a break from Lay Mirabluh and his ignorance. Plus, some puppy therapy won't hurt."

"Puppy therapy?" Arthur repeated. He narrowed his eyes. "That's not a euphemism for anything, right?"

Before Francis could answer, the door swung open and they were both warmly greeted by Feliciano. "_Ciao, ciao!_ I'm so happy you guys made it!" Feliciano gave Francis a hug and a welcoming kiss on the cheek. "Francis, it's always a pleasure!" He then turned to Arthur, giving him a hug as well. "And Arthur! We've run into each other many times! I'm so happy that we get to meet you properly! Why don't you two come in?"

As the three of them stepped into the apartment, they were first greeted by the delicious smell of a baked pasta dish. While Feliciano closed the door behind them, Francis saw that Aster was sitting next to the couch, tail wagging with excitement, holding a plush dog toy in his mouth. _At least he's not knocking guests over_, Francis mused.

"Okay Aster, you can go say hello to our guests," Feliciano said, closing the door.

The dog immediately stood up and made a beeline to Arthur, dropping the toy into his hands. A tender smile came upon Arthur's face as he knelt down and scratched behind the dog's ears. Francis took a step to the side so his knees wouldn't be knocked out from Aster's insistent tail wagging.

"Who's a good boy? Are you a good boy? Yes you are!" Arthur said, his voice was raised to a higher pitch. The dog sat down, tail thumping on the hardwood floor in excitement, and began licking Arthur's face. "Oh, thank you for the kisses!"

Francis smiled; it was always funny to watch how people changed when cute animals were present.

Feliciano laughed as he made his way over to the kitchen. There was the creaking sound of an oven opening as Feliciano bent down to take out a dish. He then carried the dish, with oven mitts, to the dining table. "Yeah, Aster loves meeting new people. He thinks that people only come here to say hi to him." he said. "Aster, you've said your hellos, now give Arthur some space!"

The dog stood up, tentatively took its toy from Arthur and wandered to the dog bed right near the fireplace. Aster sat down on the bed, placing his toy right next to him and watched alertly as Arthur and Francis sat down on the couch.

"So where's Ludwig?" Francis asked.

"Oh he's in the puppy room, making sure all of the puppies are eating their food and not trying to steal from each other's bowls," Feliciano answered. "He wouldn't admit it either, but he also probably got distracted afterwards by playing with them. He always gets sad and clingy when we're getting ready to give the dogs to their new owners."

"I can imagine it's really hard to say goodbye after you've taken care of them for so long," Arthur said sympathetically. "How do you guys do it?"

"Well, _I'm_ never here when the owners come to pick up their puppies," Feliciano began. He pulled another dish out of the oven. "That's Ludwig's job. I hate to see them go and I start crying. They're like our babies, you know? But Ludwig manages to keep a straight face, then sulks for hours afterwards." As Feliciano set the dish on the table, he chuckled. "This time around though, Ludwig is keeping one of the pups. He got attached to the runt of the litter and thinks I don't know, but I do!"

"You're adopting another dog?" Francis asked, surprised. "Is your landlord okay with that?"

"Oh yeah! We always pay our rent early so our landlord loves us!" Feliciano grinned. "I'm actually excited to have a puppy again! And Aster won't be all by himself anymore!"

Feliciano then occupied himself with setting the table and Arthur leaned closer to Francis, whispering, "I think I forgot to mention that I'm actually _terrified _of meeting Ludwig in a setting where he's not playing bodyguard. I mean, he and I didn't exactly start on the right foot."

"Oh, Ludwig is just a giant teddy bear. He likes to _try _to be mean and scary, but he's really harmless," Francis assured him. "Did you listen to what Feliciano said? Ludwig got attached to a puppy. He's a softie."

"Yeah but, who can be mean to a puppy?"

"_Trust_ me. Ludwig's a softie," Francis repeated.

There was the sound of a door opening and closing, and Aster stood up eagerly as if he had not seen his owner in ages, and ran over to greet Ludwig from the hallway. Ludwig softly greeted the dog, scratching his back and muttering in German. "_Ja, ich weiß, ich weiß. Ich bin so lang weg gewesen._"

"Hi Ludwig!" Francis said, turning around.

"Hi Francis," Ludwig responded. He glanced up to look at Francis and Arthur before pulling his attention back to the young dog. "I'm glad you could make it. And it's nice to meet you when I'm not yelling at you, Arthur."

"U-uh, yes, it's nice to meet you too," Arthur said, somewhat awkwardly. He had turned around to face Ludwig, who was still scratching Aster's tummy and not looking at him. "I apologize for breaking the rules a lot at _**Atomica**_."

Ludwig groaned as he stood up. "It's fine. It's not really _your _fault," he said, with a pointed look at Francis.

Irritated, Francis turned back around swiftly. "Don't make the rules so easy to break, then," he said, crossing his arms and feigning indifference.

"I don't think I was talking to you, Francis," Ludwig said, walking to the kitchen. He turned around and Arthur saw him smile for the first time. "Can I get either of you something to drink?"

The four men began to chat as Feliciano opened a bottle of Italian wine and poured everyone a glass. Soon they gathered around the table, passing the antipasti around as Feliciano cut the lasagna into small, servable pieces.

"How long have you two been together?" Arthur asked. He took a bite of the bruschetta Feliciano had made. He was quickly amazed at how delicious it tasted.

"Oh, I think it's been...three or four years? We've been married for a shorter amount of time," Feli answered, sitting back down. "The first year of dating was pretty rocky though. Poor Luddy was so nervous!"

Ludwig sighed. "Are you counting the year I was still in question of my sexuality? That doesn't count!"

"Why not? We were still seeing each other!" Feliciano giggled. He reached for a piece of bruschetta and placed it on Ludwig's plate. "He was embarrassed all the time, always blushing and stuff."

"Feli…" Ludwig grumbled in irritation.

"Anyways, so you and Francis have been seeing each other this whole time, huh?" Feli asked, nudging the plate closer to his husband, encouraging him to eat.

"Sort of," Arthur said, glancing at Francis. "It's been quite the rollercoaster."

"Are you officially out of the closet?" Ludwig asked. He pushed the plate away; it was clear he didn't like bruschetta. Francis smiled in preparation of a little argument between Ludwig and Feliciano to occur; though, because a new guest was present, they kept quiet and opted to skip the argument entirely. _For now_.

"I am now, since my cousin decided to out me to my entire family," Arthur answered dryly.

"Oh no! That's horrible!" Feliciano gasped. "Is he straight? Ugh, they're the worst."

"That's what I said." Francis was laughing.

Feliciano reached over and slid Ludwig's plate back in front of him. "I'm so sorry that you have to deal with that, Arthur. That's really unfair," he said, sadly. "I don't understand why others don't get that it's a personal right for us to come out to our family. Now it's been taken away from you and...how do you recover from that?"

"You can't, really," Arthur sighed. "Sure, I could say something at a family gathering but...what good would that do?"

"It would bring you closure, Arthur," Francis finally chimed in. "Have you spoken to your Nan?"

Arthur wiped his mouth with his napkin and turned away. "I've chosen to ignore the problem until it goes away," he mumbled under his breath, coloring slightly.

Francis scowled. "You mean to tell me you haven't answered her calls?"

"Can we- can we not talk about this here?" Arthur requested quickly in a low voice.

"Okay, I don't have a psychology degree, but I know that ignoring your grandma is a bad idea," Feliciano added, standing up. He took Arthur's empty plate and strategically placed a piece of lasagna on it. After giving Arthur his plate back, he took Francis'.

"I thought if I ignored my feelings for Feli, he would eventually leave me alone," Ludwig said, lifting his plate as well for some lasagna.

"Spoiler alert! I didn't!" Feliciano teased, giggling. At first, Feliciano hesitated, because Ludwig hadn't eaten the bruschetta. But still not wanting to cause a minor scene, he relented and put a piece of lasagna on the plate.

Ludwig smiled softly and set his plate back down on the table. Francis knew that he wasn't a man to give into small chuckles or laughter. "I'm sure it hurts a lot with all of this happening, but, talking to your family personally will help a lot," he continued reassuringly. "I was scared of how my family would react when I brought Feli along to meet them, but things turned out alright."

"You don't understand my family," Arthur said. "They're British, they will mock me for all its worth. They will belittle me and...and…"

"But they might not," Ludwig suggested.

Arthur huffed. "Well...do you have a devout Catholic grandparent?"

"No, but Feli does."

"Yeah, but my _nonno_ is the most nonchalant Catholic I've ever met," Feliciano said, sitting back down. "He goes around saying that the teachings are more like suggestions. And so he didn't bat an eye when I came out to him and brought Ludwig home."

Arthur stared at his portion of lasagna on his plate, remaining silent. Francis reached over and patted Arthur's knee in sympathy. _See, I keep telling you that you're making it worse than it needs to be._

The four of them ate happily, moving the conversation away from Arthur's family to other topics. Soon, they had all finished their meal and sat in silence, not knowing where to go next in the conversation.

"Would you like to meet the puppies?" Ludwig asked, setting his napkin on his plate.

"Yes!" Arthur answered eagerly.

The four of them stood up and walked over to the door leading to the puppy room. Ludwig slowly opened the door to make sure that there were no puppies near the door to escape. He waved Francis, Arthur and Feliciano inside and quickly closed the door behind him. They all watched as five German Shepherd puppies ran around with squeaky toys in their mouths, ready to greet their new guests.

"Ooh, Luddy, can I say the thing to make them do the cute little lineup?" Feliciano asked, bouncing on the tip of his toes.

"You can try," Ludwig replied with an expectant smirk.

Feliciano cleared his throat. "Achoo!" he shouted. When nothing happened, he frowned. "Did I say it wrong?"

Ludwig chuckled. "Yes, you did."

"Okay, let me try again," Feliciano said, determined. "Ack-ung! Wait no, it's action! Right?" Again, the puppies continued to play amongst themselves. Ludwig stifled a laugh as Feliciano whined. "What am I doing wrong?"

"_Achtung!_" Ludwig hollered. The five puppies all formed a line, sitting down diligently, their tails still wagging in excitement. "Let me introduce you to all of them. The one with the pink collar is Abby, the one with the green collar is Gunther, the blue collar is Sabrina, orange collar is Alaric and the purple collar is Blackie." Ludwig grabbed a bag of treats and knelt down by each dog to give them their reward for being so good.

"Blackie? Why do all the others have names and then...there's Blackie?" Francis asked, laughing.

"I named him!" Feliciano said, proudly. He wasn't bothered that Francis had insulted the silly name. "Blackie is the runt, and his fur then was all black! Ludwig named the rest of them."

Ludwig stood up. "To be fair, I named Aster, the last runt of the litter I fostered and kept," he said. He turned to Arthur, who was obviously eager to meet and play with the puppies. "You can pet them. They're well trained, so they won't bite."

Arthur immediately sat down on the floor as the puppies started to wander to him, climbing into his lap. Francis, despite not really liking dogs, sat down next to Arthur and braced himself for one of the puppies to at least play attack him. Instead, Blackie came over towards him, quietly with a squeaky toy in his mouth and sat down in front of Francis.

"Aw, you've made a new friend, Francis!" Arthur said. The puppies had piled into Arthur's lap, all of them fighting for a spot so they could lick his face. Arthur gently lifted up Alaric to place him aside, but the pup came wandering right back.

"How is it that you're more popular than me?" Francis joked back. Deep down he was somewhat jealous that Arthur was getting all of the attention.

"You probably smell like cat to them," Ludwig chimed in.

"I only have one!" Francis replied, reaching for the squeaky toy from Blackie's mouth. With the toy in his hands, Blackie then sneezed and toppled over. Everyone in the room laughed as Blackie stood up and waited for Francis to toss the toy across the room as if nothing had happened. The small pup's tail was wagging so hard, his butt was moving around along with it. "Alright, alright," Francis sighed, tossing the toy with hardly any force.

The four of them lost track of time and eventually discovered that an hour had passed with them sitting in the room. Francis mentioned that he and Arthur should get going, as it was getting late, and Feliciano quickly gathered up some extra food so Francis and Arthur could take it home.

As Francis and Arthur were about to walk out of the door, Ludwig stopped Arthur. "Sorry, I know you want to get home but I just wanted to let you know that, from my experience, you've already done the hard part."

"Which is?" Arthur replied, confused.

"Accepting yourself," Ludwig clarified. "Yes, if your family rejects you, it'll hurt like hell for awhile, I'm not going to deny that. But, you have your friends and you have Francis, and you will continue to make new friends along the way. So, the hard part is already over, at least from what I can tell."

Arthur smiled. "Thank you, Ludwig." As he turned to step out of the apartment, Francis smiled sweetly at him and Arthur put his arm around his shoulders.

"Oh, it was fun to have you guys over!" Feliciano added. "We should invite you guys here again soon! Oh! When's our next potluck, Luddy? Sometimes we have potlucks and you can bring whatever you want! We laugh and eat and have lots of fun! Last time, Gilbert brought a card game? Cards against humans, or something?"

Ludwig groaned. "Do we have to keep doing that? You know how my brother wrecks the place when he's drunk."

"Yes! It's fun! Plus, everyone needs to come and meet our new puppy!"

"I'd rather just spend the night with y-" Ludwig's comments were cut short as he closed the door. Francis and Arthur both snickered as they walked down the stairs together, secretly admiring Ludwig and Feliciano's relationship status.

"So are Feliks and Tolys still in town? Or have they gone back to Poland?" Arthur asked as he watched Francis unlock the door to his flat. He was slightly out of breath from climbing another set of stairs.

"Yes, they're still in town. From what I understand, they're now staying with Gilbert and Erzsébet until they can find an apartment for themselves," Francis answered, opening the door. "Though I'm relieved that they're gone from my place, I feel bad for Erzsébet. I know she and Feliks are also friends, but...not only does she have to deal with her rambunctious boyfriend, but she has to deal with Feliks stirring up trouble too."

"Fortunately Tolys is there to keep Feliks from being too obnoxious," Arthur added, following Francis into the apartment.

"Don't count on it," Francis replied, closing the door after Arthur. "Feliks has impulse control issues. Once he sets his mind to something, nothing will stand in his way, no matter how close those two are."

The two of them sat down on the couch and Francis reached for the three makeup bags he had left on the coffee table in preparation for a lesson with Arthur. "Are Feliks and Tolys even dating?"

"I think so. Whenever Feliks is around, Tolys is close by and vice versa. I've never seen one without the other," Francis said matter-of-factly. "However, I never knew Feliks before he met Tolys. From what I understand from Feli, Feliks wasn't at his greatest. Financially, at least."

"They seem like a couple," Arthur concluded. "Even though it's an odd match." He drummed his fingers on his knees and sighed. "Anyway, what's the makeup lesson today?"

Francis opened the first makeup bag. "Actually, I want you to show me what you've learned on me," he answered, smirking.

Arthur's eyes widened. "Are you sure you want me to do that? I've only practiced diligently for one wee-"

"Relax," Francis said, patting Arthur's back. "I'm kidding. On one half of your face, I'll be showing you what to do and the other half will be your side."

"This already sounds like a disaster."

Francis started by applying primer to the right side of Arthur's face, followed by blending a light layer of foundation. Arthur followed Francis' steps on the other half of his face, taking his time in hopes of following it perfectly.

"Shit," Francis groaned. "I always forget about your atrocious eyebrows."

"Do we need to start over?" Arthur asked.

Francis shook his head. "No, no, I can fix it." He laughed. "Good luck doing it yourself, though."

As Francis started to carve out Arthur's eyebrow with concealer and eyebrow gel, Arthur's phone rang. Arthur sighed. "Ignore it; it's my Nan again."

Francis pulled away from him and frowned. "Don't you think you should speak with her?"

"No, I know what she's going to say. Besides, this is our time alone."

"It's obvious she's concerned about you, Arthur. She keeps calling you." Francis said with concern. "Answer it, _mon chou_."

"But-"

"Answer it before it goes to voicemail."

Arthur grabbed his phone, hesitated for a split second before pressing the green button appearing on the touch screen. He put the call on speaker before answering, "H-hey, Nan."

"Oh Arthur! You _finally _picked up! I've been so worried about you, poppet!"

"Y-yeah, I'm rather sorry about that; I've been busy with the Nook and stuff," Arthur lied, glancing to Francis and drawing in a quick breath. "You okay, Nan?"

"Yes, I'm fine. Are _you _okay?"

Arthur snorted. "Of course I'm fine, Nan! Why wouldn't I be?"

There was a sigh from Nan. "Arthur, dear, you know better not to lie to your grandmother." Arthur rolled his eyes ignoring Francis' smirk. "Do you know what Alfred did?"

"What _hasn't _he done?" Arthur asked coldly. "I've been living with him for the past two and a half months. He's a piece of shit and he can rot in hell."

"_Language_," his Nan scolded him. "But, I gather that is a yes then." She paused. "Is it true, poppet?"

Arthur looked to Francis, covering the phone's microphone with his hand. "_What do I do?_" he whispered.

"Tell her the truth, Arthur," Francis answered. "She needs to know the truth and you need closure."

Arthur bit down on his tongue as he calmed himself down.

"Hello? Arthur? Did you hang up on me? Hello?"

"No, Nan, I'm right here," he mumbled. "Yes, it's true. I'm g-"

"Can you pretend that Alfred didn't do what he did?" Nan interrupted him.

"W-what?"

"Can you pretend? I need to call a family meeting to give Alfred a firm talking to, but mainly so that you can tell us yourself."

Shocked, Arthur stared at Francis. "Nan, that's really unnecessary," he protested weakly. "Everyone already knows and I'm not angry anymore. Really. Plus I've met so-"

"No, no. You need to have your moment," Nan interrupted. "Arthur, I know I said some terrible things when you were younger. I said them because I...I was ignorant. I was hateful and ignorant back then." She sighed. "I just wanted the four of you to be good. I didn't want to have one of you come home, ending up just like your mother. I shouldn't have said the things I said, and I'm sorry. I can't deny my own flesh and blood; you're my grandson, Arthur." She paused once more. "So, can you pretend that Alfred wasn't such a dick?"

"Nan! Language!" Arthur answered, stunned. He had never heard his grandmother swear in his life. Francis stifled a laugh.

There was laughter on the other line. "I'll take that as a yes. I'm thinking we'll have a family meeting Sunday. I'll cook a roast and bake your favorite cake. Apple crumb, innit?"

"With vanilla ice cream." Arthur concluded, happily.

"I will be sure it's just out of the oven then," she said, laughing. "I'll see you, Matthew and he-who-shall-not-be-named on Sunday. Along with your brothers, of course." She paused. "I love you so much, Arthur."

Arthur smiled and swallowed back his tears. Throughout all of this, he thought he would never hear his Nan say those words again. "I love you too, Nan."

With that, Arthur hung up the phone and sighed with relief. He turned to Francis who was smirking. "Don't you say it," Arthur muttered.

"Say what?" Francis asked, grabbing the eyebrow brush again. As he leaned in, his smirk widened as he whispered, "I told you so."

"Didn't I just tell you not to say it?!" Arthur shouted, jokingly. "You know you're going to have to come on Sunday."

"How many times?"

"No, not that kind of...ugh." Arthur groaned, blushing. "You're going to meet my family on Sunday."

Francis raised his eyebrows. "So soon?"

"Why not?" Arthur replied. The redness in his face had spread to his ears. "You've been with me through my whole discovery and...self acceptance. Which...thank you. And if my family is being open...then I want them to meet you. Besides, I think they'll like you. Well, they have to like you because _I _like you."

"Oh, you're so cute when you're trying to express yourself," Francis mused, setting the eyebrow pencil aside with a loving expression.

"I'm not cute!"

Francis squished Arthur's cheeks and pressed his forehead against Arthur's. "Yes you are! Look at how red your face is! I adore it!" he chanted. "I'll gladly come along to your family gathering. I'm excited to meet them; your grandmother sounds lovely." Francis moved away and handed Arthur the mirror.

"Oh, you want me to keep embarrassing myself and try to do this eyebrow exactly like the one you just did?!" Arthur protested. He took the mirror and grabbed the eyebrow pencil that was sitting on the table, grumbling. "I'll show you…"

Francis snorted and watched as Arthur attempted to redraw his brow. He rested his arm on Arthur's shoulder and stopped himself from laughing. Soon, Arthur turned to him, revealing an atrociously carved out brow that was arched up at his forehead.

"Can I _help _you?" Arthur asked, trying to be serious. He then started laughing. "I don't know what I'm doing!"

Arthur's laughter was contagious; Francis started laughing as well as he grabbed the box of makeup wipes. "I suppose I have to actually _teach _you, hm?" he teased, gently wiping away the makeup Arthur had applied. They continued to carry on for the rest of the night, laughing as they played around with makeup. Eventually, they grew tired and fell asleep on the couch as the night passed over them.


	15. Sunday's Roast

p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 36pt; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""I call shotgun!" Alfred shouted, racing to Arthur's Mini Cooper. Arthur, Francis and Matthew trailed behind him, taking their time to the car as they were carrying a bunch of different goods. /span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 36pt; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""No, Francis is sitting in the front with me," Arthur hollered after his cousin. /span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 36pt; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"Alfred opened the door on the right side of the vehicle and groaned as he remembered that the passenger was on the left side. "Dude, why do you guys make your cars wrong?" he whined, closing the door. "I'm the tallest one, so naturally I should sit in the front," Alfred added as he went to the other side. /span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 36pt; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""Last time I checked, I'm actually taller than you," Matthew said, gently placing the cake container on the roof of the car as he opened the door. /span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 36pt; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""By like a millimeter!" /span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 36pt; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""More like an inch." /span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 36pt; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"Francis, who was carrying wine cooler bags, tapped Alfred's shoulder. "Sorry, but I believe you're in my way," he stated, opening the passenger side door. /span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 36pt; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""But-" Alfred began to protest. /span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 36pt; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""Enough," Arthur hissed, opening the driver's door. "You're sitting in the back." /span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 36pt; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"Alfred mumbled under his breath and relented, climbing into the back seat of the car next to his brother. /span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 36pt; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"Once everyone was settled in their seat with their seatbelts on, Arthur put the car in drive and they were off. Alfred continued to test Arthur's patience by constantly requesting to have control of the AUX cord. Every two minutes, he whined that Francis was in charge of the music for the drive, and begged to have a turn. By the time they were 5 minutes away from Nan's house, Arthur had enough. /span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 36pt; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""We are /spanspan style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"literally /spanspan style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"five minutes away," Arthur shouted over his shoulder. /span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 36pt; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""Yeah I know but I want you guys to listen to a cool song!" Alfred said. "It's really good, I promise." /span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 36pt; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""No, you're going to put some God-awful song on and I'm not having it! Not today!" /span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 36pt; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""Okay, fair, I was going to play Gangnam Style," Alfred stated. /span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 36pt; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"Matthew snorted. "2013 called, they want their meme back." /span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 36pt; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""But I can play an /spanspan style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"actual /spanspan style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"good song," Alfred finished. /span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 36pt; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""You're not Rickrolling us either," Arthur muttered. /span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 36pt; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""Goddammit!" /span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 36pt; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"They pulled into the gravel run driveway that led up a steep hill to Arthur's grandmother's place. It was a bumpy ride up the hill, but soon they reached the top (after nearly losing an axel from hitting so many potholes) and parked beside three other cars. /span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 36pt; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"Matthew and Alfred were the first to climb out of the car and venture to the house. When they slammed their car doors shut, Francis reached over and put his hands over Arthur's knee. /span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 36pt; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""How are you feeling?" he asked. /span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 36pt; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""I'm going to kill Alfred."/span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 36pt; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""We've been over this, /spanspan style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"mon chou/spanspan style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"," Francis chuckled. "That's illegal." /span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 36pt; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""I /spanspan style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"know /spanspan style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"but...I'm so sick of him. I can't stand his presence anymore." /span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 36pt; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"Francis sighed. "Look, I know this is easier said than done, but, you need to forgive him," he said. "Today is all about clearing the air with your family, especially Alfred. You will feel a lot better when you forgive him." /span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 36pt; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"Arthur unbuckled his seatbelt and leaned his head back against the headrest. "I don't think I ever can forgive him," he grumbled. "Once I do, he'll pull some other stunt to piss me off." /span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 36pt; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""Alfred is the type of individual who doesn't know how to be serious nor apologetic. So when he's seriously hurt someone by accident, his reaction is not to apologize, but to try to make the person laugh and happy to quickly forget the mistake he's done," Francis stated. "That AUX cord business? That's him trying to say that he's sorry and he wants to try to make you laugh again." /span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 36pt; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""Are you excusing his juvenile behavior?" Arthur asked, scowling. /span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 36pt; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""No, I'm just explaining what I see," Francis smiled. "And you have to find a way to forgive him." /span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 36pt; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""What he did is unforgivable," Arthur hissed. /span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 36pt; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""No, it's a forgivable offense," Francis opened the car door. "In fact, it's very forgivable. It may take time, however. But believe me, forgiveness lifts a weight off of your shoulders."/span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 36pt; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""Sounds like /spanspan style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"excusing /spanspan style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"his behavior to me," Arthur said, stepping out of the car. /span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 36pt; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"Francis put his arm around Arthur. "Look, this might sound cheesy, but forgiveness isn't about the other person, it's about yourself." He paused. "Come on, I'm excited to meet your Nan. She sounds like a piece of work." /span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 36pt; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"Arthur laughed. "The way you say Nan…" /span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 36pt; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""What?" Francis pulled away from him a bit. "Are you making fun of my accent?!" /span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 36pt; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""No! Well, yes. In a good way though," Arthur clarified. "I like it." He grinned. /span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 36pt; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""I just said Nan! There's nothing weird about it!" Francis said, defensively. /span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 36pt; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""I don't know how to explain it, it's just funny!" /span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 36pt; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"The two continued to tease each other while they walked to the house. The door, as always, was wide open as well as all of the windows because Nan preferred fresh air over "manufactured" air, as she put it. Smells of a homemade meal greeted them as they stepped inside. Arthur's brothers were already arguing loudly as he and Francis took off their shoes. Alfred and Matthew stood to the side, unsure of what to do with themselves. Arthur found himself rolling his eyes as he gently took the wine cooler bags from Francis to carry into the kitchen. /span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 36pt; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""Nan!" Alistair hollered. "They're here!"/span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 36pt; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"Nan, a short, round woman, came out of the kitchen as briskly as she could. Arthur always remembered his Nan having fiery red hair, but the vibrancy of her hair had faded fast. Her hair was mostly grey at the crown of her head while the ends of her hair still clung to a faded red color. She still looked rather young, however, despite being in her late 60s./span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 36pt; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"Nan greeted Arthur by taking the wine cooler bags out of his hands, setting them aside and gave him a giant hug. Neither of them said anything for the duration of the hug. Arthur felt that he couldn't breathe as the hug continued to get tighter and tighter. Arthur was reminded on how much he missed his Nan; her hugs were always the best. /span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 36pt; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""I'm so glad to see you, poppet," Nan finally said, pulling away. /span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 36pt; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""Nan, you don't have to keep calling me poppet," Arthur said, slightly embarrassed. /span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 36pt; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""Yes I do! You still call me Nan, don't you?" She turned to Francis and her eyes lit up in curiosity. "Arthur, who's this?" /span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 36pt; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""Um, Nan, this is Francis. My boyfriend," Arthur introduced. He gently put a hand on Francis' arm and smiled proudly. /span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 36pt; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"Nan put a hand over her heart and gasped, astonished. "Oh, you did a good job!" she blurted. Seconds after the words left her lips, she put her hands over her mouth. "Bloody hell, I'm so sorry, Francis. I didn't mean to say that." /span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 36pt; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"Francis chuckled. "No worries, Mrs. Kirkland." /span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 36pt; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""Oh /spanspan style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"please/spanspan style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;", call me Ivy. No need for that formal stuff." She offered her hand and they both shook hands. "Tell me about yourself, Francis. Where are you from? What do you do?" /span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 36pt; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""Well, I'm a psychology professor and I'm originally from France." /span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 36pt; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"Nan turned to Arthur, cradled his face and squeezed his cheeks. "A Frenchman?! Dear Lord, Arthur. Good job!" she said before stepping away from the two men. /span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 36pt; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"Arthur stood still in shock; never once in his life had he ever seen his grandmother behave this way. /span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 36pt; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""You should've warned me, Arthur," Francis said, nudging Arthur's arm. /span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 36pt; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""Huh?" /span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 36pt; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""You should've told me your Nan was a cougar." /span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 36pt; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""She's not a cougar," Arthur mumbled. /span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 36pt; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""I dunno; if you and I weren't dating, I think she'd be all over me." /span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 36pt; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""Shut it." /span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 36pt; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"The two of them took their seats on the couch, Francis putting his arm around Arthur's shoulders. Matthew and Alfred were standing in the kitchen, setting the other snacks they had brought on the counter. When Nan entered the kitchen, Alfred took a step back and opened his arms wide. /span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 36pt; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""Nana!" he cheered. "It's been like, /spanspan style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"forever /spanspan style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"since Matt and I have seen you! How are yo-" /span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 36pt; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"Before he could finish his sentence, Nan grabbed his ear and began dragging him up the stairs without saying a word. "Ow! Ow! OW! My ear! Nana!" Alfred whined. He stumbled behind his grandmother, who was clearly angry with him. /span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 36pt; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"There was the sound of a door slamming shut from upstairs, followed by the distinct crunch sound of a potato chip. Arthur and his brothers looked in the kitchen to see that Matthew standing at the bottom of the staircase, casually munching on some crisps. /spanspan style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"He's enjoying this/spanspan style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;", Arthur thought, cracking a smile. /span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 36pt; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"Liquors of all sorts were gathered on the small coffee table that sat in the middle of the room, reminding Arthur that the rest of his family were borderline alcoholics. /span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 36pt; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"Alistair was the first to stand up and greet Arthur. Surprised by the sudden gesture, Arthur stood up as well. He set his glass of scotch next to its bottle and towered over his younger brother. "Eyy, Arthur, it's been awhile." he said. He opened his arms and the two brothers hugged briefly and awkwardly. "What have you been up to lately? Still runnin' that tiny bookstore?" /span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 36pt; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"Arthur couldn't help but laugh. His brother had moved to Glasgow for university years ago and lived there since. The English accent he once had as a child was completely gone without a trace. "Yes, I am. Still drinking the days away, I see." Arthur commented, crossing his arms across his chest. /span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 36pt; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"Alistair turned and glanced at his bottle of scotch. "Ah, well, I've toned it down a little. Would you like some?" /span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 36pt; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"Arthur shrugged. "Last time I tried scotch I thought it tasted like dirty socks, but I'll give it a go." /span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 36pt; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""Great, there's a bottle in the kitchen. That's the sharing one. This one over here is mine." /span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 36pt; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"Arthur rolled his eyes; he wished his older brother would be honest about his drinking problem, but knew it wasn't worth it to bring it up again. Too many family get togethers had been ruined because of other accusations of Alistair being an alcoholic. He didn't want to ruin this one either. /span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 36pt; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"Alistair laughed and wrapped his arms around Arthur's shoulders. "Oh come on, Artie, I'm just jokin'." he teased. /span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 36pt; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""Please, no, no, no. Don't…" Arthur pleaded, but it was too late. Alistair already started to rub his fist on the top of Arthur's head, just like he had when they were kids. /span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 36pt; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""Did you think you'd get away with not having me picking on you, ya shortie?" Alistair chuckled, letting go of his brother. He then gave a "light" punch on Arthur's arm. "It's really good to see you, Arthur." Alistair looked over to where Francis sat, who was looking at his phone, and cleared his throat. "So, Francis, is it?" /span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 36pt; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"Francis looked up and smiled. "/spanspan style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"Ouais/spanspan style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"," he answered, standing up. He offered his hand. "You must be...Alistair?" /span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 36pt; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""Yeah! Now that I'm gettin' a good look at ya, I can understand why Nan got all hot and bothered." /span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 36pt; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""You can go sit down now," Arthur blurted, pushing his brother back into his seat. Alistair grinned and laughed as he sat back down, grabbing his scotch glass off of the coffee table. /span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 36pt; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"Both Laughlin and Dylan stood up simultaneously to introduce themselves to Francis. When it came to Arthur's brothers, they all ironically were about the height one would expect. Alistair was the tallest, Laughlin second, Dylan third and Arthur the shortest. Alistair had the deepest auburn hair, which was typical for the Kirkland family line. Laughlin's hair was a vibrant, gingery color, which complimented his freckle covered face nicely. Dylan's hair color was closest to Arthur's by being a strawberry blond tint. Francis chuckled to himself as he watched the four brothers, without batting an eye, started to pick on Arthur by reminiscing embarrassing moments when they were children. /span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 36pt; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"Francis also couldn't help but notice how /spanspan style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"all /spanspan style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"of the Kirkland boys were attractive in their own right. /span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 36pt; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"The arguing was interrupted suddenly when Matthew came bolting into the living room and took a seat on the couch next to Dylan's original spot. Everyone stared at him for a moment, befuddled, until they heard the creaking of the stairs as Alfred and Nan were making their way back down. Everyone sat back down and acted as if the room had been quiet the whole time. /span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 36pt; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"Dragging his feet like a sad dog, Alfred wandered into the living room with his hands in his pockets and his head hanging down low. "Um, Arthur," he mumbled. "Can I like...talk to you? For a sec? Privately?" /span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 36pt; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""Whatever you need to say to me, you can say it here," Arthur replied. /span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 36pt; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"Francis gently smacked Arthur's arm with the back of his hand. "/spanspan style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"Arthur/spanspan style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"." /span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 36pt; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""What?" /span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 36pt; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"Francis answered with a stern look, silently encouraging Arthur to be kind to his cousin. Arthur rolled his eyes, stood up and gestured to the front door. They stepped outside and walked down the hill a bit to stand by a nearby tree. Arthur crossed his arms across his chest, trying to keep warm from the brisk, chilly air. /span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 36pt; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""I just wanted to say that I'm /spanspan style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"really /spanspan style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"sorry for what I did," Alfred began. He scratched his left arm and avoided eye contact. "I felt so excluded, you know? We argue so much when we're working at the Nook that I wanted to see if you ever loosened up a little. And I was jealous that you wanted to hang out with Matt more than me. So...I wanted to get back at you." When Arthur didn't reply at first, Alfred started to ramble more and more. "I'm sorry. I really am. And I don't think I can say that enough. What I did was stupid a-and wrong and...I don't expect you to forgive me. I understand. I'm an asshole. Nana pointed that out to me." He laughed. "Dude, I don't think I've ever heard her swear before." Another pause. "I'm sorry, Arthur. I'm sorry." /span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 36pt; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"Arthur let Alfred's words sink in for a moment until he spoke. He let his arms drop down to his sides and sighed. "I shouldn't have left you out like that. I'm sorry I sent you to Tesco for a...fake errand. I didn't want you knowing that I was going to a gay bar and that I was gay just yet," Arthur explained. "You're...kind of the worst with secrets." /span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 36pt; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"Alfred laughed. "Yeah, yeah. I know." /span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 36pt; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""I would've told you eventually, just…"/span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 36pt; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""I should've been the last to know," Alfred finished for him. "I'm so sorr-"/span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 36pt; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""I know," Arthur interrupted. "I am too. We both messed up. How's that?" /span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 36pt; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""No, no...I messed up the most." Alfred paused. He opened his arms. "Should we hug it out?" /span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 36pt; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"Arthur snorted and opened up his arms as well. "Sure, you big goon." /span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 36pt; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"As they hugged, Alfred hesitated. "What's a goon?" /span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 36pt; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"Arthur pulled away from the hug, chuckling and shook his head. "Don't worry about it, twit." He turned to see that everyone had gathered by the doorway and were watching closely to Alfred's and Arthur's body language. Even though they were at a distance, Arthur could tell that Nan was smiling proudly. /span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 36pt; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""Alright you two, come back inside! Dinner's ready!" Nan called. She turned back around and pushed her way through her grandsons to get back inside the house. Everyone else followed her back inside, except Francis, who waited for Arthur to catch up. /span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 36pt; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"He smirked and asked, "How do you feel?"/span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 36pt; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""Don't say it," Arthur grumbled. /span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 36pt; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""It," Francis said. /span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 36pt; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""No, that's not…" Arthur laughed; he didn't know if Francis was playing around or they just had another language barrier moment. "I feel better." /span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 36pt; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""Ah," Francis nodded. "Told y-"/span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 36pt; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""Don't say it," Arthur reiterated. He smiled. "You were right. Forgiving somewhat lifts a weight off of your shoulders." He linked his left arm with Francis' right and chuckled. "Promise me you won't brag about this later on." /span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 36pt; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"Francis hummed. "I'll think about it," he teased as they stepped into the house together. "But can't I enjoy the moment just for a little bit?" /span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 36pt; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""Alright, you can enjoy for a little bit. And you can gloat about it when it's just the two of us. But not here. It'll...it'll just feed into my brothers' picking on me."/span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 36pt; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; color: #000000; background-color: transparent; font-weight: 400; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;""Deal."/span/p  
p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; text-indent: 36pt; margin-top: 0pt; margin-bottom: 0pt;"span id="docs-internal-guid-0e455cbf-7fff-8029-2135-544335e0c3cb"span style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; background-color: transparent; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"The two of them kissed, but quickly pulled apart when Arthur's brothers started rooting for them and hollering: "Ooooh, kiss kiss!" and "Get /spanspan style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; background-color: transparent; font-style: italic; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"in/spanspan style="font-size: 12pt; font-family: 'Times New Roman'; background-color: transparent; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"!" Arthur groaned, made a comment about how much he disliked his family, and led Francis to the dinner table for a traditional Kirkland Sunday roast. /span/span/p 


	16. In the Greatest Tradition Of

_**Atomica **_was loud, crazy, busy and packed with people as usual. Walking from the bar, Arthur carried two different glasses towards a table where Alfred and Matthew stood. "Alright, one margarita for Alfred and one glass of water for Matthew," Arthur said. He slid each glass to their rightful owners.

"Why you gotta be lame, Matt? It's our last night in London! Get turnt!" Alfred shouted over the loud music.

Matthew cringed. "Okay, first of all, _no one _says that," he replied, shouting as well. "Second, the last time I was here, I had that very same drink and it messed me up good. I'm not looking to be miserable again! Besides, we have a flight tomorrow afternoon. I'm not flying with a hangover."

"Wimp!" Alfred mocked. He lifted up the large margarita glass and took a sip. He grinned. "Ah _fuck_ yeah! This is _good_!"

"Alright, I need the both of you to be on your best behavior. Got it?" Arthur chimed in.

"This is a club, dude, why would I need to behave?" Alfred asked.

Arthur sighed. "Scratch that. Matthew, can you sure Alfred doesn't do anything _insensitive_, tonight?"

Matthew smirked. "Yeah, I think I can handle that."

"Good, because I actually want to enjoy the show tonight. Francis told me that I _have _to watch the first performance especially." He began sliding into the chair next to Matthew. "He and Feliks have been working hard the past week to put their performance together. If I don't watch it, I think Francis'll kill me."

Alfred took another sip of his cocktail. "Feliks...why does that name sound familiar?"

"He called you Alfonso," Matthew commented.

Alfred's eyes lit up in recognition as he set his drink down and swallowed. "Oh yeah! He's weird. I legit thought he was a girl."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "He's nonbinary, I think," he said. "He's actually really nice once you get past his loud personality."

"Nonbinary, what's that mean?" Alfred looked at Arthur confused. "That's not the attracted to both genders thing, right?"

Arthur smirked; at least his cousin was _trying_. "Nonbinary is when someone doesn't really fit into a masculine category or a feminine category; so Feliks is just...Feliks."

"Okay...I think I understand…" Alfred hesitated. "And Feliks is performing tonight? As a drag queen?"

"Yes, Roksana Pierogi," Matthew jumped in. "I saw her the last time I was here; she's quite good." This was the first time Arthur realized that Matthew had picked up a bit of an accent. Both he and Alfred had noticed and had started laughing.

"Dude, did you pick up a British accent?" Alfred teased. "Maybe I should just leave you here to be with your people!"

Matthew's face turned a bit red. "Shut up, Al," he grumbled.

"I'm so proud, Matthew," said Arthur, patting him fondly on the shoulder. "It sounds both charming and authentic." Matthew gave him a slightly embarrassed smile in return.

Alfred continued laughing, picking up his drink again. "So, is this show like RuPaul's Drag Race or what?"

"What?" Arthur replied, confused.

Matthew sighed. "It's a really popular reality show where drag queens compete and stuff."

"Yeah, man. What kind of ga-"

Matthew leaned over and put his hand over Alfred's mouth, immediately silencing him. "Remember when we talked about _thinking _before _speaking_? It was only an hour ago, so search your brain."

"I wasn't going to say anything insensitive!" Alfred said, moving Matthew's hand away from him. "I was just going to say that a lot of people like Arthur watch-oh you're right, that isn't very nice to say."

"_Good_. You're _learning_." Matthew smiled.

"I'm sorry, Arthur-" Alfred began.

"No need," Arthur held his hand up. "You didn't actually say it, so I'm not going to be offended by it." He paused. "How's your margarita?"

Alfred took another sip and grinned. "Awesome, dude. It's like, so good."

Arthur patted his cousin on the shoulder and began to walk away. "Glad you like it, but _pace_ yourself. Matthew's not kidding when he says it really messed him up."

"Where are you going?!" Alfred hollered.

"I need to wish Mirage good luck!" Arthur called back over his shoulder. He walked over to the backstage doorway where, as always, Ludwig stood with his handy clipboard. When Ludwig glanced up, he caught Arthur's eye and sighed.

"Let me guess, wishing Mirage good luck?" he asked with a smirk.

"Yes, if it's allowed."

Ludwig nodded and stepped aside. "Be quick, however. The show starts in ten."

Arthur eagerly walked through the backstage, weaving through the groups of dancers walking past until he reached Mirage's dressing room. Before he knocked on the door, he took a deep breath, remembering the first time he stood in front of the door was only a couple of months ago. Exhaling, Arthur then knocked on the door, smiling.

The door quickly opened by Francis, who was holding a pair of tweezers with an eyelash stuck in between them. He smirked. "You caught me with one eyelash on," he mused. He leaned against the doorframe and gently blew on the eyelash to help the glue dry a little. "I have to apologize, my _services _are usually offered _after _the show."

Arthur laughed and felt his cheeks grow warm. "No, no...I came by to wish you good luck, love."

Francis wrapped his arms around Arthur's neck and chuckled. "Aw, thank you, _mon chou_." He then lightly pressed his index finger on Arthur's nose. "Now, hurry up. I want you to have a front row seat to the first number, okay? No one will know, but I'm dedicating the first song to you."

"That's really unnecessary, Francis." Arthur sighed. He already had a feeling as to what the song was going to be. Francis had been listening to a song over and over for the past week, listening to the point where it had begun to get on Arthur's nerves. But at the same time, Arthur thought it was sweet that Francis had been thinking of him, and it had been endearing to watch Francis prepare for a show.

"I know, but I wanted to," Francis concluded. "Seriously, you need to go get your seat."

"Don't you want a good luck kiss?"

Francis' eyes lit up. "Oh! I've always wanted a good luck kiss! All this time I've been jealous that Feli always got one and all he does is shake his ass."

The two leaned in for a kiss, both of them enjoying the moment. However, the moment was quickly ruined when there was a sudden, loud crash behind them. Francis immediately pulled away and turned around to see that his jewelry box was on the floor, along with various pieces of jewelry. He looked up to see Feliks standing frozen in place, holding onto a pair of sparkly earrings.

"Feliks! _What _did you do?!" Francis shouted.

Feliks looked away, pretending he hadn't seen anything. "Was not Feliks, was Roksana..." he answered, hiding his hands behind his back.

"That has to be the _stupidest _excuse I've ever heard!" Francis continued. "You're still blaming _yourself_!"

"Okay, fine. Was Tolys then!" Feliks lied.

"Tolys is not even in this room!" Francis stepped back into the room and let go of the door, which slowly began to close on its own. "And we've talked about this! You _cannot _use those earrings! They're mine!"

"Okay, but I just want to borrow them one time. I promise to give them back!"

The door clicked shut, muffling the arguing that continued in the room. Arthur couldn't help but laugh at the absurdity he had just witnessed. Soon, he made his way back through the groups of people to the entrance way into the ground floor. He caught Matthew's and Alfred's attention and waved them over to follow him to stand right by the stage.

The lights in the club dimmed and the music faded away. "I hope everyone is ready for a _fantastic _show tonight! We're trying something new, and we hope to get some positive feedback," Gilbert announced. "Both Mirage Voilà and Roksana Pierogi have worked hard together to put at least one performance together. Afterwards, we have another surprise, so please, keep your drinks close and your wigs glued to your head!"

Arthur hoped that Mirage and Roksana would be able to put their argument aside for the time being so they could put on their best performance together. After all, he had never seen them share a stage simultaneously before. This could either be an extraordinary performance or a complete mess.

The club went completely dark for a few seconds until a spot line shone on the center of the curtain. Mirage stepped out, wearing a long, robe-like dress. It was fairly subtle, but Arthur already knew that it was a tear-away to reveal a more beautiful, sparkly dress. As she continued to lip sync, the music continued to build and build, driving one's emotions along with the lyrics.

When the chorus hit, Mirage spun around, taking the tear away off and tossing it as far as she could to the left side of the stage. She slowly began to walk to the center of the stage, making sure the light caught every sparkle on the dress. Mirage gave every word meaning as the song continued, and it could be sensed throughout the club that people were immediately moved and awestruck.

Arthur had to stop himself from singing along with the song; it was indeed that song Francis had been listening to over and over again. All this time, Arthur had grown to dislike the song because of it repetitive nature, but in the moment, Arthur was happy to hear it.

There was a call and response after the first chorus, Mirage held out her right arm as she gave the call, encouraging the audience to chime in. Thankfully, the audience did their part in the response, eagerly singing the line back. Most people probably already knew the song well; it was a motivating song, after all. Mirage came around to the other end of the stage where Arthur and his cousins stood, giving the next call. Everyone in the immediate area responded, including a tipsy Alfred, who somehow managed to be louder than everyone else in the club. Arthur glared at his younger cousin briefly, annoyed, but quickly drew his attention back to the show.

When the call and responses were over, it was Roksana's turn to take the next verse. She shot out from the backstage with the energy of a firecracker, changing the energy in the room in an instant. The nature of the second verse suited Roksana more in character, though it still required her to be more tame in comparison to her other show. Roksana was a nice contrast to Mirage's more contemplative verse.

The audience began clapping along as the second verse led into the chorus once again as Mirage joined Roksana in a semi-duck walk to the edge of the stage. The whole club was now singing along with the song, nearly drowning out the original female vocals. Alfred took it upon himself to start dancing like a complete fool. His rigid movements cause his drink to slosh and spill all over the place. Matthew acted quickly, taking the margarita away from his brother before he spilled the entire thing.

The song reached its bridge, and Mirage made eye contact with Arthur and began to make her way over towards him, still mouthing along to the words. She slow knelt down to the floor as the music seemed to disappear just for a moment as Arthur froze. The singer continued to sing, their voice in a hushed whisper and Mirage gently cradled his jaw. She leaned in closer and closer to him. The hair from her wig fell over her shoulder, acting as a curtain to block out the crowd from the intimate moment.

At this point, Mirage had stopped moving her lips completely as she giggled at Arthur's beet red face. In the split second before the music's energy kicked back in, Mirage planted a soft kiss on Arthur's forehead, leaving a lipstick mark.

As Mirage rose back to her feet to finish the song, Arthur noticed that Roksana was going all out, attempting to steal the show. _Can you at least share the stage?_ Arthur thought to himself, rolling his eyes as Roksana did several cartwheels across the stage. Mirage focused more on showing the meaning of the words as the song came to a close. It was clear to Arthur that she was _trying _to stay with the planned choreography, despite Roksana not following directions well.

When the song ended, the whole crowd cheered as Roksana and Mirage put one arm around each other and bowed. Arthur smiled; when he had first come to _**Atomica**_, he was slightly embarrassed that he and Mirage had taken a liking to each other in an instant. Now, he was proud of the show Mirage had put on, and he couldn't stop himself from smiling more and more.

"Let's give Mirage and Roksana another round of applause, everyone!" Erzsébet announced as she walked onto the stage. The crowd gave one final cheer. "Alright, we promised something new, so allow me to explain what's going to happen! How many of you _live _for RuPaul's Drag Race?!"

Everyone in the crowd cheered, Alfred joined the cheers by jumping around and screaming. Arthur laughed, not surprised his cousin didn't care that he was being ridiculous.

"Fantastic! That's what we thought! Well, we took a little inspiration from the show and we're going to have a little competition between Mirage and Roksana. Sound good?" Erzsébet waited for the crowd to calm down once again. "For those of you who don't know me, my name's Erzsébet, I do a lot of organizing behind the scenes. Mainly helping your beloved DJ, Gilbert, who's now my," She paused and held up her left hand to show off her new ring. "Fiancé!"

Arthur, along with everyone else, turned to see the DJ booth in the back of the club where Gilbert was to give their congratulatory whoops and hollers. Gilbert, suddenly put on the spot, put on his best cheesy smile and tried to ham up the moment.

"Anyway!" Erzsébet continued. "I will be the host of this new little competition. This is how it will all work: both queens will have to perform three different songs by themselves. While they are performing, they will be doing everything they can to steal the show. Each opponent has prepared their own three songs; neither know which songs they will be performing. Only I know that. However, if, and only if, a queen is no longer feeling the song, she can tag the other queen which will result in her giving the song to her opponent surprisingly. This is a way to sabotage the other. Does that all make sense?"

The crowd agreed.

"Okay, when everything is said and done, we will calculate the winner by your applause. I will put my hand near Mirage or Roksana, and you guys will have to cheer for the queen you're rooting for. Whoever gets the loudest response, wins!" Erzsébet concluded. "Is everyone ready?"

"Yes!" the crowd shouted, simultaneously.

"Mirage Voilà, you're up first! Are you ready?" Erzsébet asked.

Mirage nodded and put her hands on her hips, giving Roksana the side-eye as she walked past to the back of the stage. Erzsébet and Roksana stood to the very back corner of the stage, as the stage lights dimmed and Mirage stood still waiting for the music to begin. She struck a pose, with her left arm wrapped around her waist, supporting her right arm as she rested her fingers over her lips.

The music began with a bit of distant spoken word as the main _motif_ of the song was played throughout. Soon the beat came in, bring the song's true start. Mirage took on an incredibly sensual role as she performed. Her touch on her arms and legs would linger for a split second longer than she should have, with looks that would make anyone go mad with sexual desire.

Alfred snickered next to Arthur. "Looks like we all know what you two are doing tonight."

Arthur responded with a swift punch to Alfred's shoulder in embarrassed aggravation.

"Didn't hurt," Alfred mocked, laughing again. "You two are totally gonna fuck after this."

Arthur grumbled under his breath and crossed his arms; he hated that his cousin was right.

When the song reached its chorus, Mirage walked backwards, soon reaching the back of the stage. It looked like she was ready to tap out of the song, and Arthur quickly felt disappointed. _You've only done one verse, what are you doing?_ He thought to himself.

Mirage held out her hand, ready to tap Roksana in for the song. But as Roksana went to reach out, Mirage pulled her hand away. There was a minor chuckle in the crowd as Mirage repeated the same encounter. She was about to do it a third time, but as Roksana was ready to just grab her arm, Mirage spun away from her, ripping off her dress, revealing another shorter dress covered in sequins. She tossed it over Roksana's head and walked down the runway as if nothing had happened while the crowd cheered on.

Roksana was stunned by the encounter, tugging the dress off of her head and setting it aside. She smirked, accepting the challenge ahead of her.

The song came to its climax, and Mirage had death dropped to the floor. Alfred flinched and gasped at the move. "Dude, doesn't that hurt or something? God…" he muttered under his breath to his brother.

As the bridge of the song continued, she sat up and curled her legs up to the side. She ran her hands over her legs as she laid back down on her side, the hair of her wig resting on the floor. Soon, it was time for the final chorus, and Mirage was back on her feet, giving her all before the song finished. When the music stopped, there was no chance of enjoying a second of silence because the crowd was going wild.

Arthur was smiling from ear to ear as he watched Mirage take a quick bow. Mirage turned to Roksana in a taunting manner.

"Try me, bitch," she said before stepping off of the stage to change her outfit.

Roksana rubbed her hands together as she turned to face the audience with a smug smile.

"Roksana Pierogi, are you ready?" Erzsébet asked.

Roksana glanced over to Erzsébet and gave a small nod. She was ready to _truly _give the audience a show.

"I can't believe Roksana won," Arthur mumbled, disappointed. He and Francis were standing by the bar, waiting for their drinks. "You were phenomenal."

"Well, she's a trained dancer after all. I'm just a humble psychology professor who does drag for fun," Francis replied. He picked up the drink Antonio slid towards him and took a sip. "But, I'm happy to have support from my number one fan. Glad you enjoyed the show, _mon chou_."

Arthur smiled and leaned on the bar counter. "If I'm honest, I could watch you perform anytime, anywhere."

Francis raised his eyebrows and smirked. "Ah, are you saying you'd like to see me dance in my underwear?"

"Oh, come on! Why is everything about sex with you?" Arthur laughed. He picked up his drink as well and murmured into the cup, "But yes, I wouldn't mind you dancing in your underwear."

Francis leaned closer to him, grinning. "What was that?"

"Nothing!"

"I'm sorry, I didn't hear you. Did you say you'd like to see me dancing around in my underwear?"

"Francis!"

"Alright, let's dance then!" Francis began pulling Arthur to the dance floor. He then paused and looked around. "Where're your cousins?"

Arthur scanned the room. Matthew was wondering back from the bathroom, his hands in his pockets. He then looked up to find Alfred over near the DJ booth, talking to Gilbert and Erzsébet. "Looks like Alfred's up there. Probably trying to change the music, as always," he answered. When Matthew climbed onto the bar stool, Arthur turned to him. "Hey, when did Al get up there?"

"Well, he drunkenly hit on Erzsébet and I think she thought it was funny? So they kept talking and I guess eventually she took him up to the DJ booth," Matthew explained, shrugging.

Francis made a face like he was trying not to laugh. "Well, he's either in for a wonderful surprise or a rude awakening."

"What do you mean?" Arthur questioned.

"Um...Erzsébet and Gilbert like to be experimental in their relationship," Francis clarified, scratching his neck. "I think that's the politest way I can put that."

Matthew's eyes widened as he urgently slid off of the bar stool. "Oh my God, they're going to ask him to join a threesome," he said, running away to rescue his brother.

Arthur started to laugh. "That's not what they're going to do right?" he asked Francis.

Francis kept quiet.

"Oh no." Arthur gasped. "_Really_? A _threesome_? They're engaged now!"

"Yeah, well, they have an interesting relationship. It's hard to explain," Francis sighed. He set his empty glass down on the counter. "Anyways, while Matthew's handling that situation, can we dance for a little bit?"

Arthur set his glass on the counter as well. "Of course," he replied. "It wouldn't be a Saturday night if we didn't dance together."

Francis took Arthur's hand and the two of them wandered into the crowd on the dancefloor, soon to be lost in the night.

Pulling up to the busy curb of the airport, Arthur put the car in park and let out a sigh. It was time for the twins to get on a plane and fly back across the pond home. Arthur didn't want to admit it, but the moment was bittersweet. At first, having the twins was chaotic due to their contrasting natures. But eventually, Arthur learned to appreciate their company, and he didn't want them to leave.

Turning the ignition off, Arthur opened the door and climbed out of the car. On the opposite side, Matthew climbed out of the car as well. He glanced at Arthur as he went over to the trunk and opened it.

"It was a great summer, Arthur," he stated with a sad smile. There was still a trace of a British accent in his soft voice. "I actually really don't want to leave."

"Well, you're welcome back any time, Matt," Arthur replied. He helped Matthew with pulling the two hardshell suitcases out of the trunk. "Tell your parents I said hello."

"Will do." Matthew nodded. He knocked on the back window. "Alfred, wake up. It's time to go."

There was no response, and both men groaned. Arthur opened the door, where Alfred had been sleeping against, which resulted in Alfred falling directly on the concrete ground. Alfred groaned loudly, picking himself up.

"What the fuck was in that drink?" Alfred grumbled. He adjusted his hoodie so that it would shield his eyes from the sunlight.

"You could've stopped at one," Matthew commented. He handed his brother his respected suitcase. "Either way, you gotta find a way to look well enough. We're about to get on a plane."

"I feel like I'm gonna hurl…" Alfred added. His stance was wobbly.

"Just get through security and then drink some ginger ale while you're waiting to board the plane," Arthur instructed him, giving Alfred a hug. "Take care of yourself, Al. Both of you let me know when you've landed in New York."

"Got it," Alfred replied, returning the hug. "Gonna miss you, man."

Alfred stepped aside so Matthew could give a hug to Arthur. "I'll miss you, Arthur. Take care of yourself." When he stepped back, he laughed. "Well, Francis will, at least."

Arthur chuckled. "See you soon, Matthew. Make sure Alfred doesn't throw up on anyone, _please_."

Matthew gave a thumbs up as he and his brother walked away. The automatic doors were wide open as they approached the entrance. But Alfred was a bit too far to the left, and ran smack into the window beside the door. Arthur flinched sympathetically; it probably didn't hurt as much as it looked, but it couldn't have been fun. Matthew, trying not to laugh, grabbed Alfred's arm and pulled him along with him.

The brothers disappeared amongst the crowd and Arthur got back into his car to drive back home.

Francis, though hungover, wanted to surprise Arthur when he returned from the airport. It was a little bit past noon, and though it was technically lunchtime, Francis wanted breakfast foods.

And so Francis gave his best effort to cook some brunch. He used to do so much cooking when he was a kid and in college. But as he had gotten older and his life became busier, he didn't cook as much as he wanted. He hoped his cooking skills hadn't faded too much.

After making some crêpes, Francis heard the door open as he pulled out raspberry and blackberry jams out of the refrigerator. Arthur closed the door behind him, leaned against it and sighed. "I didn't think I'd be so sad, honestly."

"The twins are charming," Francis said. "Their presence will be missed greatly." He pulled out a chair and sat down. "Then again, now we have the apartment to ourselves."

"Last night wasn't enough?" Arthur asked, sitting beside his beloved.

"Hm? I meant that we get to eat these crêpes by ourselves."

"Liar."

Francis grabbed a plate and handed it to Arthur, chuckling. "I'm serious; we don't have Alfred here to eat all of the food."

"True," Arthur agreed. "But now we'll have leftovers.

They both laugh, filling their crêpes with jam. They ate in silence, simply enjoying each other's company. The meal did not last long, and Arthur collected the plates and silverware to clean up.

"What do you think about a movie day?" Arthur asked. He placed a clean plate onto the drying rack.

"Today?" Francis replied.

"Yeah." Arthur dried his hands with a cloth and placed it on the counter. "We could put on Netflix or something, order take out for dinner, curl up under some blankets and watch a bunch of movies." He then frowned. "Unless, you have something else today. I know classes a new semester starts up tomorrow and you have things to do."

Francis smiled and cradled Arthur's jaw. He wanted nothing more than to spend time with Arthur, even if it was over something simple like a movie day. "I love the idea. I'll go grab the blanket from your room," he said. He began to walk away. "You have popcorn, don't you?"

"I think so, but it might be old…" Arthur opened several cabinets and the pantry in hopes of finding some popcorn while Francis wrestled with the comforter in the bedroom. A half an hour passed before they settled into the couch, with Arthur flipping through the different movie selections on the online streaming service.

"Any preferences?" he asked.

Francis thought for a moment. "You like documentaries?"

"Sure,"

"Well, since you're still new to understanding drag history and such, want to watch _Paris is Burning_?"

"What's it about?" Arthur adjust the blanket so that it could drape over their legs equally.

"Drag queens living New York City; it talks about their culture, their lives, their friends, terms, slang. Everything." Francis put his arm around Arthur. "It's humbling."

"I'll give it a go," Arthur agreed. "_Paris is Burning_, you said?"

Francis nodded, stuffing a handful of popcorn in his mouth. It took several minutes, but Arthur eventually found the documentary. He put the movie on in an instant and reached over to turn the light off. The two of them sat quietly throughout the film, wrapped in each other's arms. In a point where the film was halfway through, Francis caught himself watching Arthur slowly start to nod off, his head resting on Francis' shoulder. Francis put his head against Arthur's and smiled.

"I'm glad I met you, Francis," Arthur mumbled, half asleep.

Francis kissed his forehead. "I'm glad I met you," he replied. "I love you, Arthur Kirkland."

Arthur looked up at returned a smile. "I love you too, Francis Bonnefoy."


	17. BONUS CHAPTER: The Christmas Party

Ludwig and Feliciano's apartment was filled with laughter and song as the whole gang had gotten together for a Christmas party. Antonio had been singing Christmas songs nonstop whilst playing his guitar. Feliciano had appetizers/tapas constantly coming out of the oven, supplying his friends with never ending food.

"Any requests?" Antonio asked, saying some random chords on his guitar. He joking leaned to his boyfriend. "Lovi? Anything?"

Lovino was slouching in the couch with his arms crossed. "No, _niente_."

"Oh come on, Lovi! You love Christmas!" Antonio began strumming a familiar song. "How about _Felíz-_"

"No, you've been singing _Felíz Navidad_ all day. I'm sick of it!" Lovino cried.

"Oh, but you love _Felíz Navidad_!"

"Not fifteen times in a row!"

As Antonio and Lovino continued their argument, Arthur and Francis were on the opposite couch. Arthur was laying down, his head resting in Francis' lap. Francis was playing with Arthur's hair lightly, making Arthur feel drowsy.

"Are you falling asleep, _mon chou_?" Francis asked.

"I'm trying not to," Arthur answered. "But you're playing with my hair again."

"It's so much softer now that you're using the right shampoo and conditioner," Francis admired.

"It's _your_ shampoo and conditioner," Arthur corrected with a smile.

"I know. Don't you think it makes your hair softer?"

Arthur chuckled and sat up. "Of course, love." He stretched and yawned. They had been at the party for several hours now, and it _still _felt like the party was just getting started. With the constant singing and laughing, Arthur had no idea when the party would feel like it would die down. He looked to Francis. "You want me to grab you another drink?" Arthur asked, pushing himself off of the couch.

Francis handed him his wine glass. "Sure; and don't be stingy with the wine. It's Christmas Eve's Eve, and my celebration has just begun."

Arthur laughed as he wandered over to the drink table and filled up the wine glass. He then grabbed a can of ginger ale (he was the designated driver for the night) for himself. As he sat back down on the couch, the door opened and stumbled in Feliks and Tolys.

"See! I told you door would be open!" Feliks said, poking Tolys' shoulder in a teasing manner.

"But it's always polite to knock!" Tolys commented with a heavy sigh.

"Ah, I was wondering when you two would get here!" Feliciano called from the kitchen. He had just taken out another batch of cookies for the party, and was placing each cookie on the cooling rack.

"Yes, we would have been here earlier but Feliks was insistent on finding a specific kind of vodka," Tolys said.

Feliks held up two bottles. "Do you know how hard it is to find Polish vodka in this place? Like, too hard!"

"Aren't there plenty of other brands, though?" Arthur chimed in.

"No! They don't taste as good." Feliks hurried over to the drink table and placed the two bottles of vodka side by side. "Also, I hope you don't mind, I had a couple of sips on the way here," he added, pointing to the already open bottle.

While Feliks made his rounds to greet everyone and let them know he _finally _arrived, Francis gasped and shook Arthur's shoulder. "Arthur, look at that outfit!" he whispered.

Setting his can of ginger ale down on the coffee table in front of him, he glanced at Feliks outfit. It was a Santa dress, with fluffy white fur around the collar, sleeves and the skirt of the dress. The dress was accompanied by knee high black boots and a Santa hat atop Feliks' head. It was a very cute outfit, Arthur couldn't deny, and he knew exactly why Francis had pointed it out.

"What about it?" Arthur replied, playing dumb.

"I _want _it," Francis answered. "No, I _need _it. Look at how cute it is! I _need _that dress!"

"You would look very nice in that dress, but the Christmas season is almost over, Francis. Perhaps Mirage could ask for something similar next year?" Arthur stated.

Francis pouted. "A year is too long," he whined, resting his head on Arthur's shoulder. "Besides, if we get it now, I can wear it whenever I want and it can be Christmas for you _anytime_," he added with a smirk.

Arthur's cheeks turned pink at the implications of that comment and he looked away. "I'll _think _about it. But you already have plenty of..._nice _things to wear."

"It's always nice to change it up," Francis continued. He took another sip of his wine. "I guess I could always just sew a dress similar to that one; I could make it lacey. I know how you feel about lacey thi-"

"Francis," Arthur muttered. His cheeks were hot red. "Not now."

Francis giggled. "Alright, alright, we'll put a rain check on the idea," he finished, patting Arthur's knee.

Arthur sighed with relief. _He just has to be such a constant tease with me_.

At some point, Gilbert, Erzsébet, and Feliks had joined Antonio along in the singing of Felíz Navidad right beside Lovino. The already ridiculous scene had turned into something out of a comedy skit with only two people out of the four really knowing _all_ of the words to the song. Erzsébet and Feliks would mumble the Spanish lyrics as they would bob back and forth, shaking their hips as Antonio and Gilbert carried the song in drunken Spanish. Once the chorus came, both would shout the English lyrics at the top of their lungs and wave their arms about.

It didn't matter how many times they sang the song, Lovino was _not _in the mood.

"Would guys just _shut up _already?!" Lovino finally shouted.

Antonio hit a bad chord out of shock from Lovino's outburst, and he looked at the others for a second. With a shrug, he strummed on the guitar very quickly before going back into Felíz Navidad and singing the chorus once again. Lovino groaned and slouched further into his seat, grabbing a pillow that was next to him and putting it over his head.

"Does this happen often?" Arthur asked.

"Every year," Francis confirmed.

Arthur turned to him. "Every year?"

"_Every _year."

Taking in a deep breath, Arthur gathered the courage to interrupt the merry festivities. "Do you think we could sing a different song?" he asked rather loudly.

The music came to a stop once again as the gang looked at Arthur, offended that he would suggest such a thing. "Why you have to ruin Christmas?" Feliks asked with a pout.

"I'm not ruining Christmas, I just asked if we could sing a different song! Lord knows there are plenty of them." Arthur defended himself. "Perhaps, Jingle Bells or God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen or…"

"I agree, I have a fucking migraine because of all of you," Lovino chimed in.

"Both of you are Nancys of Negativities. I don't even know those songs." Feliks complained, crossing his arms.

"It's Negative Nancy, _idiota_."

"Is same thing!"

The argument began to get louder as they fought over what songs to sing. Francis sighed and nudged Arthur's arm. "Look what you've done, you've ruined Christmas."

Arthur sighed again. "Yeah, well, I'm pretty good at ruining fun."

"Oh stop, I was just teasing." Francis put his arm around his beloved and swayed.

In the corner of their eye, they saw Feliciano step on top of a chair and waved his arms around. "Hey! If I could get everyone's attention please? It's time to exchange gifts!" he hollered over the several arguments going on in the living room. Of course, no one stopped and paid attention to the poor Italian, who's yelling didn't even seem to phase the guests. "Come on guys, let's not fight! They're just songs anyway!"

Ludwig, who had been sitting quietly at a seat by the kitchen island and most of the guests forgot he had been sitting there, simply cleared his throat. Immediately all of the arguments stopped and the apartment was silent for once.

Feliciano hopped off of the chair and gave a kiss on Ludwig's cheek. "Thank you, Luddy," he said, folding his hands. "So, we all came here for Secret Santa, remember? If we could all grab our gifts and exchange them, that would be wonderful."

"Please, no arguing. And no more _Felíz Navidad_. I ought to ban that song from our Christmas parties," Ludwig added, standing up.

Eventually everyone took their seats, making sure they had their gifts ready for the exchange. Arthur held onto his gift, double checking that the wrapping paper was still secure by the tape. When Ludwig had announced in early November that there would be a Secret Santa between the whole gang that frequented _**Atomica**_, Arthur wasn't too sure he wanted to participate. Francis had managed to convince Arthur that it would be fun and a chance for him to hang out with the well established group of friends. So Arthur drew a name out of the hat, and somehow ended up with Tolys, the most quiet and plain person in the whole group.

Some "Facebook Stalking" had to be done on Arthur's part in order to find somewhat of a decent gift for the always anxious Tolys. In hopes of maybe finding a way for Tolys to calm down at the end of the day, or something, so Arthur settled for an essential oils diffuser. It wasn't the _best _gift, but at least Francis said that Tolys would enjoy it because he appreciated well thought out gifts.

Before Arthur and Francis got up from their seats, Feliks came around and shoved a huge gift bag in Francis' face. "_Wesołych Świąt_, Mirage!" Feliks exclaimed.

"Oh, how did you manage to get me for Secret Santa?" Francis asked, chuckling.

"Does not matter, open it! Open it!"

The gift bag was heavy, to Francis' surprise, and filled with too much sparkly tissue paper. Once all of the paper was out of the bag, Francis pulled out a dress that was similar to the one Feliks was currently wearing, along with boots and a Santa hat.

"Ta-da! Do you like it?! I made just for you!" Feliks shouted, jumping up and down.

Francis grinned. "Like it? I _love _it!" he said, standing up. "How did you even know my size?"

"I took one of your dresses from the dressing room and used it to figure out the measurements! And all of you think I'm stupid."

"This is...I'm so surprised that you were so thoughtful, Feliks!" Francis paused. "Wait, did you put the dress back?"

Feliks ignored Francis' question and shook Francis' arm. "Put it on! Put it on!" he chanted like a little kid. "We can be like twins!"

Francis happily grabbed the boots and hat as he made his way to the bathroom to change, with Feliks not too far behind him to wait by the door. Arthur chuckled as he stood up to give Tolys his gift.

"Feliks is a handful, isn't he?" Arthur asked, sitting next to Tolys.

Tolys sighed and nodded. "Yes, he is." He smiled. "But, we've been through a lot together. And so, in a weird way, we support each other."

"That's good," Arthur replied, awkwardly. "Did something happen between the two of you or something?"

Tolys' smile quickly disappeared. "Um, no." He paused and looked away. "It's kind of a long story and uh...I still don't think I can talk about it."

_Jesus Christ_, _what is with this guy?_ Arthur thought to himself. "I'm so sorry, I didn't think it was-"

"No, no. It's okay! Bad memories, you know? And not a lot of people know."

Arthur nodded and gently handed Tolys his gift. "I uh...Merry Christmas. I hope you like it."

Tolys gently and carefully unwrapped the gift, revealing the box for the diffuser and smiled. "Thank you! I've heard some good things about essential oils and had been thinking about trying it."

Arthur sighed with relief; thank _goodness _Tolys liked the gift.

"YeeeeeeeeEEEEEESSSSSS!" Everyone turned their heads after hearing Feliks cheering at the top of his lungs while Francis had stepped out of the bathroom. "It fits you like, perfect!"

"Yes, I'm surprised that this actually gives me some shape even without hip pads." Francis said, pleased with himself. He looked over to Arthur. "_Mon chou_, thoughts?"

Arthur blushed before he turned away. "It looks nice," he blurted awkwardly.

Francis smirked. "Good."

"Okay, so I have idea!" Feliks rambled. "Next year, we do performance with song from _Mean Girls_."

"Jingle Bell Rock?" Francis asked, confused.

"Yes! That one! I'll be Regina and you'll be Gretchen! So we'll need to find two more..."

"_Gretchen_?! You're demoting me to _Gretchen_?!" Francis hissed. "We _both _know I'm a better Regina!"

"No, I'm Regina! Who else would I be?" Feliks asked.

"Maybe you should be Gretchen!"

"No way! _You're _Gretchen because you live for the gossip!"

Arthur turned around in his seat to put a stop to the very pointless argument. "Francis, have you given your gift to Erzsébet yet?" he asked.

Erzsébet, who was sitting on the floor, sat up in excitement. "Francis, you're my Secret Santa this year?" she asked, happy.

Francis let his arms fall to his sides and groaned. "Arthur, you ruined the surprise!"

"Well, you're being ridiculously mean to Feliks over here," Arthur countered. He loved Francis to death, but he knew that Francis had problems with being petty. The man could hold a grudge and keep an argument going until the person he was arguing with was humiliated.

"Yeah, you're being ridica...ridicasissy...you're being mean to me!" Feliks repeated with his hands on his hips.

"Alright, alright," Francis relented, walking away. He grabbed the gift bag he had sitting next to him for Erzsébet and handed it to her. "_Joyeux Noël_, Erzsébet."

Erzsébet happily took the gift bag and began pulling out the tissue paper. Carefully, she took out a box that had several different bath bombs inside and another box filled with body lotion. "They're all my favorites! Thank you, Francis!" She quickly stood up to give Francis a hug.

"You're very welcome, my dear. You're going to need all the leisure time you can get with all of this wedding planning you have to do," Francis replied.

"Funnily enough, I've barely done any of the planning." She turned to Gilbert who was unwrapping his gifts from Antonio. "Someone has control issues."

Gilbert glanced up from unwrapping and gave a confused look. "What?"

"I was just telling Francis that you've been doing all of the planning for our wedding," Erzsébet clarified, crossing her arms and smiling.

"Oh," Gilbert grumbled. He started to unwrap the present again. "I know how it stresses you out so...you know."

"He also said he wants it to very special," Erzsébet whispered, leaning closer to Francis.

"Aw, see, he's not always obnoxious." Francis responded quietly, smiling fondly at Gilbert.

Gilbert muttered under his breath as he set the wrapping paper to the side. For someone who loved being the life of the party, Gilbert didn't particular like when the attention was on him for being anything less. He wanted to be known as a hell raiser, not as a softie, despite everyone knowing he truly was a softie and would literally do anything to make Erzsébet happy.

Once all of the gifts were exchanged, drinks were refilled and everyone seemed to be happy, Antonio began strumming random chords on his guitar. "Lovi," Antonio said, lovingly as he sat next to his partner.

"No."

"Come on, sing with me. Just once. Please?" Antonio pleaded.

Lovino took a deep breath and sighed, looking away. Antonio kept strumming the same chord over and over, hoping Lovino would eventually relent and sing along. Eventually, Antonio succeeded. "_Felíz Navidad_…" Lovino started to sing.

Antonio gave a cheer and spun around with his guitar as a victory dance. He then joined his boyfriend in singing boisterously, making everyone wanting to join the song. It took a few more minutes, but soon everyone was singing along to the simple, yet annoying (but also beloved) Christmas song.

Time passed on as they soon continued to sing different Christmas Carols, some in various languages as some did not know any of the English verses. It was almost comical as the languages mixed together, confusing some as they were on their fourth or fifth drink. Eventually, it reached 1:00 in the morning and Ludwig politely asked everyone to leave after Feliks suggested they play a game of "Find the Mistletoe."

"Luddy, we don't have to end the party early!" Feliciano protested. He followed behind his partner as Ludwig started escorting people out of the apartment.

"It's one o'clock in the morning, Feli!" Ludwig argued back. "I would like to have _some _sleep until our flight tomorrow."

"It's not like we'll get to sleep anyhow! Besides, we can sleep on the plane, like always!" Feliciano added.

"Everyone is drunk and are bound to fall asleep. We don't have room, first of all. Second, we have a flight in _four _hours. Third, I need to take Aster and Blackie to their day care while we're away."

"Is this because I suggest we play game of 'Find the Mistletoe'?" Feliks, who was standing behind Ludwig, chimed in. "No need to be timid, we are all friends. For example, I can go first! Tolys, where is the mistletoe?"

Tolys was lying down on one of the couches, fairly drunk. His cheeks were flushed and the bottle of vodka sat beside him on his lap as he was trying his best to not fall asleep. Without sitting up to look at Feliks, he said: "I don't need to look; it's up your ass, isn't it?"

"Aw, why you ruin surprise?" Feliks asked, leaning over the couch to look at Tolys. "But yes, it's _by _my butt."

"When did you even find time to put it there?" Francis asked. He stood up from where he was sitting and grabbed his coat.

"I have my ways," Feliks answered, smirking. He poked Tolys' nose. "Are you falling asleep?"

"Of course not," Tolys answered, rubbing his eyes and sitting up. "But, we should probably get going, as Ludwig says." He went to stand up quickly, but soon fell over back into the couch. "I didn't drink that much alcohol tonight…"

Feliks laughed as he came around the couch and grabbed Tolys' hands to help him up on his feet. "Yeah, but you suck at holding your liquor." He began pushing Tolys to the door. "Let's get Mister Wibbly Wobbly home. _Wesołych Świąt, _everyone! See you next year!"

Everyone gave a tired and exhausted "Merry Christmas" back to Feliks and Tolys as the began to pack up their belongings. Francis, who was still wearing the outfit he had gotten as a gift, lazily shoved the clothes he wore when he arrived in his gift bag while Arthur shrugged his coat on. The two of them said their goodbyes to those who were still hanging around and left the apartment. Their car ride was fairly quiet on the short drive home, except for Francis' humming the now cursed song _Felíz Navidad_.

Once they got to Arthur's apartment, they slowly climbed the stairs holding hands with Francis leading the way up the narrow staircase. "You know, I think Feliks' idea of 'Find the Mistletoe' isn't a terrible one," Francis commented as Arthur unlocked the door.

Arthur blushed a litte. "Maybe that's a game we can play next year," he replied. He stepped into the apartment. "The two of us should get some sleep; we have a long day tomorrow."

"We're just going over to your Nan's place, right? That's not terribly long."

"You're forgetting about the part where we have to go to Christmas Mass with my Nan."

"Oh, right," Francis closed the door behind him. "Do we _have _to go to Mass?"

"Yes." Arthur slipped his shoes off and hung his coat up. "What's the problem? I thought you said you were Catholic too."

"Well yeah, but I haven't stepped foot in a church since I was baptized."

"Don't worry; it's mainly just carol singing anyways." Arthur sighed and began turning off the lights in the living room and made his way to the bedroom. Francis eventually followed suit, taking off his shoes and hanging up his coat beside Arthur's. He crept into the bedroom and wrapped his arms around his lover, planting a soft kiss on Arthur's cheek.

"You're sure you don't want to play 'Find the Mistletoe'?" Francis teased.

Arthur couldn't help but chuckle; Francis was persistent as ever. "I'm sure," he replied, gently declining before adding, "Perhaps tomorrow."

Francis gave another kiss before stepping away to get ready for bed. "I suppose that gives me some more time to get more mistletoe."

Arthur turned around quickly. "How much do you need?" he asked.

"Enough to cover my whole body, of course!"

Arthur chuckled and shook his head. "Right, you're going to be sure we'll be up all night, huh?" He followed Francis into the bathroom to brush his teeth and use the new face wash Francis had bought him. He put a bit of toothpaste on his toothbrush and leaned over the sink as he brushed his teeth. "Can't get enough of me, is that it?"

Francis smirked as tied back his hair into a bun for the night. "What? Am I not supposed to enjoy the fact that you're good with your mouth?"

Arthur nearly snorted out his toothpaste out of his nose as he tried to stop himself from laughing. He quickly finished brushing his teeth, rinsed out his mouth and looked to his smug boyfriend. "Francis!" he scolded.

"What?" Francis chuckled. "Oh Arthur, you can be such a prude at times." He jokingly pushed Arthur out of the way with his hip and grabbed his toothbrush to start his night routine.

"I'm no prude," Arthur mumbled, before walking out of the bathroom. Changing into his pajamas, Arthur eventually climbed into bed and sunk underneath the covers. It took several minutes, but soon Francis joined him under the blanket. Francis reached over to turn off the lamp next to the bed and rolled over to put his arm around Arthur. The two curled up to each other, arms and legs intertwined.

Arthur's hands were cold, like always, and Francis shivered. "Why are your hands always so freezing, _mon chou_?" he asked, slowly drifting off to sleep.

"Sorry," Arthur apologized. He slipped his hands through Francis' nightshirt, resulting a yelp from Francis.

"You're so mean!"

"What? I need to warm them up somehow!"

They both laughed in between kisses as Francis tried to squirm away from Arthur's icy grip. Once their laughter drifted away and drowsiness settled in again, Arthur hummed to himself and put his lips against Francis' shoulder. It didn't take long before the two fell fast asleep, gently snoring while wrapped in each other's arms.


End file.
